Bartholomew
by D-chan
Summary: An explosive accident leaves one Marine and a convicted criminal stranded on a planet inhabited by flesh-consuming aliens. Within hours the strangers are at each others' throats. Can Corporal Forbes and Klaus cooperate long enough to make it out alive? [AU]
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So... this is a weird one. It was actually inspired by a dream I had concerning a fandom I was a part of in... well... 2002. So, quite some time ago, and the fandom is long dead since the creator abandoned her work. So I made some modifications and decided to attempt a Vampire Diaries sci-fi. This is the result. Call it an exercise in something unusual. I didn't see much in the way of sci-fi for this fandom, so I can only assume there isn't much interest in it. Regardless, this is my contribution. I sort of had a mix of Star Trek, Ender's Game, and Megami Kouhosei in mind while writing this, if that helps explain anything that I fail to in writing._

_I don't plan for this to have more to it, but that could change depending on the level of interest. I have far too many projects to work on to dedicate my time to something that hardly has traction, much as I love this fandom. I recognize how unfinished it is, but it really is more an exercise than anything, plus I am admittedly curious if any sort of futuristic sci-fi AU fanfic would be well-received in this fandom. If not, it will remain an exercise piece. If so, I'll work on it, though it will take a back seat to ItSOCC and CK._

_Either way, I had a blast writing it, and I hope reading it is nothing if not intriguing for you guys. It was definitely a concept that plagued me until I put it to paper, and it feels good to get that demon to rest a little._

_Critiques, as always, are welcome with open arms._

* * *

Pain wrenched through her body, ripping her from a dark oblivion. She registered the agony before bloody hues of the sky filtered through the jagged crevice above her. The ground beneath her was hard and damp, yet blessedly cool pressed harshly against her screaming injuries.

Corporal Caroline Forbes was amazed to find herself breathing.

She inhaled slowly and deeply, focusing on where the pain most radiated. Her ribs were sore but didn't seem cracked or broken. Her vision was fine, though the impending darkness struck her with unease. Slowly she forced herself to sit up, biting back a groan as she did so. From there she shifted her appendages, taking grim note of her bloodied clothes, swollen left wrist, throbbing shoulder, and splitting headache.

But at the very least, she was alive—and mobile.

Caroline used the rapidly dimming light to survey her surroundings quickly. She appeared to have fallen into some sort of cave, where the only light came from the scarlet sun trickling mockingly through the cluster of trees that must have broken her fall. And, it seemed, the failed parachute still seemed to have saved her life. It remained visibly dangling from the outside foliage, battered and torn as she was, yet boasting of how it, too, had softened her landing from fatal to injurious.

There was also a man she didn't recognize three feet away from her. Setting her jaw, Caroline made her way over to him as softly as she could on her hands and knees, biting her tongue each time agony shot daggers up her arm and to her neck. First she checked for breath and a pulse, both of which he had.

Strange, though. He wore civilian clothing, but from Earth. And he was visibly human, not at all the grotesque image of her enemies. Caroline had no clue how he had gotten there, but since he was breathing and helpless she set to tending his wounds. One leg was visibly broken, and the other sported an ankle the size of a cantaloupe. Cuts and abrasions decorated his face, though he wasn't bleeding profusely. Unfortunately Caroline had little in the way of medical aid given her—and apparently his—confusing accident.

No matter. If he had the will, he would live.

For the time being she shifted his swollen ankle into a small freezing puddle. His pants were torn enough to set the other leg. Her splints were a poor imitation, given all she had were spare suspension lines and her harness. The fact she had any of her equipment left on her body was a testament to the strange life on this planet. Whatever those "trees" were made of, they had snipped through her heavy-duty parachute like sewing scissors through rice paper.

There was still light when he finally opened his eyes.

Caroline sat as comfortably as she could beside him, studying his passive expression as he took in the situation. A long, low hiss escaped when he shifted, as though his injuries had finally woken as well.

"Keep quiet," she murmured.

He turned his head. The first flickers of emotion lit his eyes then; amusement and a tinge of dark curiosity.

"Once it's night we'll get moving," she continued in low tones. "I don't know how we'll get out, but it should be safer in the dark."

The man nodded once. His eyes were indiscernible in both color and thoughts in the dimming daylight.

"What's your name?" she asked.

The corner of his mouth curled self-deprecatingly. "Does it matter?" An accent danced in his voice, lifting his O's and pressing down on his R's.

With a cool shrug, she answered. "Not really."

"It's rude, you know. To ask for a name without giving yours first."

Oh, lovely. He was one of _those_, the type to act a complete prick in the face of precarious situations. Caroline rolled her eyes. Yet she obliged. "Corporal Forbes."

"Ahh."

They lapsed into silence. Caroline kept her senses open, waiting for any unusual sounds, sights, or smells. Soon enough they'd have to move. Then, she thought with an inward smirk, he was _really_ in for a surprise.

Darkness began to creep in, but she didn't find it any harder to see. If anything her vision sharpened, adjusting with inhuman speed to her new surroundings. Nighttime really did transform everything, even with nocturnal vision.

"You're quite striking, you know."

She shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. "Noted."

This time his smile came in full, though it was just as mocking. "I mean it. It's always surprising to find such lovely women in the Marines."

"You're not in the military." Her voice flattened. It wasn't a question.

"No," he agreed. "But my opinion remains."

"Why, you're choosing now to get into my pants?"

His smile vanished. His lips were full, his eyes intense. "Are you opposed?"

Caroline wished she could say she was surprised. As a woman in a man-dominated military, this was nothing new. Even wartime failed to diminish the human race's broad capacity for sex under a wide variety of circumstances.

If she were to be strictly honest, she _wasn't_ completely against the idea. However….

"I'm impressed you can think about sex when both your legs are so messed up."

He continued to keep his tone quiet. Civilian or not, he was on the same foreign planet as her and they were glaringly aware of what dangers befell them should they be discovered. "I'm willing to let you set the pace."

Caroline couldn't help but smile at his brazenness. "Even if I was willing… why?"

The man surveyed her up and down, though in the glimmers of dusk he couldn't have possibly made out much more than a silhouette. "Odds aren't in our favor for survival. And, if I'm to be honest for once in my life, I prefer to go out with a pleasant memory in an otherwise depressing existence."

Caroline jolted a bit. She'd been prepared for all assortments of answers, but his blasé forthcoming had taken her by surprise. Stupid, she told herself. Her very training kept her expecting the unexpected, particularly on an alien planet.

Then again, she was always more surprised by her fellow man than the enemy.

Perhaps for that very reason, she began to remove her tracksuit, unzipping it from the front down past her navel. She wore nothing underneath, not even a bra. There was no need in the suit, as it was designed with women in particular in mind to keep their breasts from painfully jiggling when running or in highly tumultuous impact scenarios. And anything else was just silly and superfluous. She slid her suit down, not bothering to remove her boots. She'd need them if they had to make a quick escape.

Caroline wasn't worried. Even now, as excitement began to course through her, alertness sharpened her mind outward. She was, after all, inhuman—no, _superhuman_, she reminded herself. And if this man had a death wish, well, she'd do what she could, but Caroline wasn't about to deter a civilian who didn't even belong here from jumping into the open flames of death.

She knelt beside him, softly warning him to leave her left side alone. He implicitly agreed, remaining prone on his back even as his breath quickened a notch. Caroline quickly found his jeans, leaving little time for foreplay. He didn't need it—he was already hard and eager.

Men. Seriously.

Still she straddled him, unbuttoning his fly and pulling out his rigid cock. Perhaps it was the impulsiveness of the situation, the danger threatening to suffocate them in unknown territory, or just the simple fact it had been months since her last sexual escapade, but Caroline found she was wet enough to be ready. She rubbed his tip against her, sucking in a soft breath as he sighed his appreciation.

But then, to her surprise, his hand shot out to stop her, pushing his cock away from her entrance. Caroline opened her mouth to voice her confusion, but the man silenced her by sliding his fingers inside. He cupped her firmly, beginning to tap a probing rhythm while his thumb brushed at her clit.

Despite his injuries, he visibly enjoyed himself. Though he couldn't have seen much of her, Caroline saw his eyes were fixated on her form, his lips parted as he sought to bring her pleasure. And she wasn't one to give an inept man a pity moan—which made her gasps that much more meaningful.

If they survived beyond this, she would ensure he knew that.

Caroline couldn't help but enjoy herself, the stifled panting of their passion quiet yet contrastingly rising in pitch as they continued. Trickles of cold water through their dank cave easily muffled their gasps, yet his intake in particular hit her ears in a primal cadence.

Their quiescence seemed to intensify the moment, and soon she felt herself orgasm. Heat emanated from his body as he recognized what happened, and she could have sworn he was staring straight into her eyes, his own gaze burning, frothing as though his oceanic eyes mimicked Poseidon boiled the sea. The way he _almost_ seemed to look at her sent chills through her that hardened her nipples. He reached up with his more injured arm, cupping one of her breasts and letting out a louder sigh that bordered on a groan. He was content to play with her nub with his fingers, and his gentle worship of her body set her off again. Illicit sex was always fun, but this was so much different than the backseat of a car outside her high school at night, or making love in the park just yards away from a bonfire. Caroline _welcomed_ her second orgasm, both stunned and delighted by her body's rapid response.

But she was still alert, and a dreadful sound made her freeze. She quickly climbed off the man, zipping up her suit and taking a knee before him to re-zip his fly. The slick proof of their passion covered his and her fingers. She hardly thought of it but to lick them both clean.

The man sighed again, this time in resignation, and muttered, "That could have been so erotic. Such a waste."

"Shut up." There was no malice in her voice as she scooted closer to his head. Then, without waiting to explain, she propped him up and slung his least injured arm around her neck before standing. She stole a quick glance at his surprised—and oddly enough, still _amused_—expression before she gingerly swept his legs from under him and picked him up as though he were a child. The man hissed in pain. "Sorry. It's gonna hurt. Try to keep quiet."

And with that they fled. The cave was not finite; at least not in a way that was immediately noticeable. The water had to come from and go somewhere, and the floor of the cave seemed to slope steadily down. The deeper they went the less light there was, until even her nocturnal vision made navigating the area difficult. Silently cursing, Caroline paused to get another good look before she chose a nook. She laid the man down, sliding him in feet first. He grimaced and occasionally grunted, but protested very little. For a civilian, he was apparently well-trained. That or simply used to excruciating pain.

Either way, it was immensely helpful.

Caroline didn't stop until she could feel he was a good distance inside the nook. The opening was low, well below her knee when she stood, and wide enough for one grown man to fit somewhat comfortably.

"Pinches my feet," he muttered.

Well, it was close enough to comfort.

"Don't move. Don't breathe if you can help it," she warned in a fierce hiss. "They can't smell worth a pretty damn, so just keep quiet. I'll come back for you."

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

In any other situation she might have stomped on his foot for calling her in such a patronizing manner. Instead all Caroline could do was hope she was right and they both lived long enough for some light to filter back in.

In the meantime, she needed her own hiding place.

Caroline felt along the walls, daring to crawl in hopes of a crevice similar to the one she had shoved the strange man into. It was much further from him than she liked—after all, how long would it be until she saw another human again, if they both survived?—but she couldn't afford to be picky. Wriggling into the hole meant her life, so she took it.

Her space was roomier than the man's, but also a bit lower. Good thing she was slim and relatively small-breasted. The tracksuit kept her comfortably cushioned even as it was thin enough to be little more than a layer of dermis. The very same material had left her with much fewer injuries than her new companion. Earth could say what they wanted about the cold-heartedness of the Marines, but cold hearts wove some damn fine survival fabric.

The skittering of many feet—if they could be called that—continued to draw nearer. Caroline made herself as flat as possible, pretending she was one with the strange stone that encased her in her time of need. For a moment she could have sworn many of them paused a ways down, closer to the stranger, but then they were active again, all forty of the individual feet. She kept her eyes open despite being unable to see anything but vague motions of black against obsidian at this point.

Then they skittered past her, the legs against stone akin to nails tapping with light scratches against metal and chalkboards. Caroline kept her breathing even, though the neurotic part of her wanted to screech and beat the annoying bastards to a bloody pulp.

She could have. And would have. But for the fact she was weaponless. And outnumbered.

And these abominations had taken a serious liking to the taste of raw, sanguine human flesh.

The alien creatures were quick, yet it felt like forever before Caroline deemed it safe to move. She had to be certain they weren't going to circle round back the way they'd come—at the same time, if that was their intention, waiting too long could put her in a position to find out on far more abrupt terms than she liked.

So really, it was pure instinct and a lot of luck that guided her out into damp stillness again. There was still very little light, but her eyes were well adjusted at this point. Lying in wait had other advantages, such as getting used to new environments.

Caroline crept back toward the unnamed man. She knew her footfalls were quiet, yet in the vast dank void each nudge of her toe echoed in her ears. So her hearing was sharpened—yet she didn't hear what she expected, such as the shallow, ragged breaths of an injured human. He had to be uncomfortable by now.

Unless, of course, he was dead.

Caroline closed her eyes briefly. No. That was a possibility, but not likely. Soldier casualties were to be expected, and yet… this man was undoubtedly a civilian. Some poor, stupid sap who had somehow snuck along for a joyride.

Plus, even with her hardened core it made her shudder to think that if he _was_ dead, she had been intimate with him not too long ago. It was hard to shake the image of his deft fingers with corpse-like coldness after that.

She finally did find him, and when Caroline knelt on the ground, she couldn't hear his breathing. Cursing in her head, she reached in and began to pull him out. His body was cold—

—but not _that_ cold, she realized. She bit back a sigh of relief when he stirred, apparently woken by her touch. The man blinked sightlessly in the dark.

"Appreciate you coming back for me," he wheezed.

"You sound like crap," she replied.

He scoffed, but she caught the dim curve of a smirk on his lips.

Caroline almost smiled back but caught herself. She straightened up, keeping her voice quiet but firm as she spoke. "Look, they could be back any minute. I'm going to have to carry you again. You _have_ to keep quiet."

"Oh, sure," he said. Caroline was unsure if he was mocking her or not. "Swaying in your gentle embrace should lull me right to sleep."

"I could leave you," she said darkly.

His smile was dazzling. "But you won't. Will you, sweetheart?"

God, she'd let this man _touch_ her? Apparently a nice, short nap had awoken the prick in him. Caroline heaved a long-suffering sigh before sweeping him off his feet and cradling the man in her arms again. This time she wasn't gentle, and his muffled grunt said he knew it.

Without a word she pressed back toward where they had come to earlier. It was no safer than going the way of their enemy, but she had no idea if they were to circle back or not. This was unfamiliar territory with a vicious species. She had to rely on her gut now that military tactic was only going to serve her so well, and her gut said to try going in the opposite direction.

Soon they came upon the area they had crash-landed, and just as soon they were past it. There was nothing left. Any scraps that had been left in their wake appeared to have been—cleaned? Stolen?—by the aliens. The crevice that opened up like a lazy yawn to the sky revealed little; the sky had clouded over in their absence in dusky purple hues, hazily covering what looked to be an enormous moon. The planet had two, Caroline recalled from her flight over, and were in far closer proximity than Earth's.

Earth seemed so, so far away now.

Grimly, Caroline forged into unfamiliar territory. There always seemed to be just enough reflective light for her to see. It took her a while—because she was more concerned with running, not because she was dense—to notice that the rock around them appeared to glow with small glittery bits scattered throughout.

After some time, the man muttered something. Caroline decided it was a good time to take a break, so she came to an easy halt and lowered the man to the floor. He winced when she did so, but appeared relieved when his damaged leg came in contact with another blessedly cool stream. Caroline took the opportunity herself to remove her boots and soak her feet. It _did_ feel lovely.

Only when they had both had a chance to relax a little did she scrutinize him again. "Were you trying to say something?"

The man smiled wryly. "Just that there is a macabre beauty to it all."

She had to agree. At least, as far as their surroundings were concerned, which she certainly hoped was what he spoke of.

"You shouldn't be talking in your condition. Or when we're in motion," she told him.

He leaned against the jagged rock behind him, weariness sketching his features. "I'm certain you can handle them."

"Thanks," she said coldly. "But that's not the point. We're not in a favorable position."

She half expected him to make a snarky remark about her earlier position, atop him. But if he had those thoughts, he wisely kept them to himself. "Right."

"If we're going to survive, we need to set some ground rules," she said grimly, removing her feet from the water. Wonderful as it felt, they were going to have to move again soon. Caroline shook loose drops free as she spoke. "First, be as quiet as possible when we're on the move."

The man didn't move to acknowledge, not even a nod. She supposed she'd have to assume he was listening.

"Second, we don't engage if we don't have to. We run. Survival is our top priority now."

The man opened his eyes but still said nothing.

"And third, I'm in charge."

He stared.

Caroline felt her hackles rise. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, Corporal."

Okay, now he was _definitely_ mocking her. Caroline jammed one foot back into a boot, glowering at him. "You're super peppy in a pinch, aren't you?"

His lip curled. "My most sincere apologies. I'll keep this in mind next time both my legs are rendered useless on a planet with cannibalistic _Apis_ and my fragile civilian, non-government enhanced _human_ life is in the hands of a Marine drone, lovely though she may be."

The venom with which he spat his words was not new. Back home, even in their dire situation, many a civilian distrusted both government and military factions.

Still, that was _back home_. Caroline stood once her feet were covered again, her hands squarely on her hips as she eyes him with new distrust. "Between the two of us, I'm the one with the training. I highly suggest setting aside your undeserved snark toward my job until we make it off this stupid planet alive."

The smile he flashed was sharp and nasty. "Nothing in your training will ever prepare you for the unknown, sweetheart."

"Oh, and fourth rule," she said, kneeling to pick him up again. "Stop calling me that."

He snorted derisively, but went mute once she took her first step.

They moved that way for what must have been hours. Even with her superhuman abilities, the act of carrying a full grown man wore on Caroline as the day—did time pass in days, here?—dragged on and they continued to encounter the same jagged, sparkling rock with the same cold rivers that she didn't even know if they were safe to drink. Not that it stopped the oversized man-child she carried from drinking, and mockingly offering her a taste. Caroline determinedly stuck to what limited supplies she had, but even those ran low very soon.

If her ship hadn't crashed and very possibly exploded somewhere above them, Caroline had actually brought useful tools. A small backpack device that served to test water or other liquids for adequate human consumption, a scanner to detect fatal levels of known hazards such as radiation in pliable foods, and a thermoluminescent device to monitor her daily gamma intake. Without those she was vulnerable to the dangers of the planet, dangers that the idiot man she was crazy enough to continue vying for his survival seemed more than happy to ignore. He drank the water, wet his finger and tasted for salt levels in their surroundings, even washed his abrasions without thought to whether or not he would become infected.

He was just as likely to die of his own stubbornness than the alien enemy, Caroline realized.

There came a point when they stumbled across daylight again. This time it was from a narrow hole toward the top of their imprisonment, too narrow to climb up even if they could get a foothold on the slippery, jagged stone that surrounded them. But it did bring some relief, knowing enough time had passed that it was daylight. Caroline chose to stop in that area, setting the man up into a small nook in the cave where his legs could prop up slightly and provide some minor relief.

"So," she said calmly, earning a suspicious glance from the stranger. "It looks like we'll be stuck together for a bit, provided you don't, I dunno, slit my throat in my sleep."

"I won't, so long as you don't tempt me," he said in a brittle, sweet voice.

Caroline ignored that. "It'd be easier to know your name."

He blinked, apparently taken aback by the request. He shouldn't have been, she thought. He'd asked for hers, and she'd even fooled around with him without knowing what to call him.

Slowly, as though expecting her to have a violent reaction, he said, "Klaus."

It sounded vaguely familiar, but Caroline couldn't place anything serious to the name. Yet she filed away his reaction for later, in case something clicked. "A German name. I always thought the language was kind of coarse. Strikes fear," she said cavalierly.

Klaus bared his teeth in a move not quite a smile. "It's derived from Latin, actually. Niklaus."

She liked that a bit better, but common etiquette dictated she call him what he chose to introduce himself as. Caroline shifted from one foot to the other, nodding. "Any siblings?"

His lips pressed together in a thin line, and his eyes went cold. Apparently that was too sore a subject for him. Instead he shifted gears on her. "I'm more interested in what drew a fashion designer to the Marines."

Caroline jolted inwardly. She took great care to mask it, but the damage was done.

_How does he _know_ that?_

The conniving, uncanny way he looked at her said that he knew she'd been caught off guard. If anything he grew absurdly more confident, his pose lackadaisical in spite of the sheer agony he had to be experiencing.

"Jeunesse Blanchefleur, the young white flower," Klaus mused coyly. "Subtlety is clearly not your strong suit."

"You didn't exactly ace the class, either," she bit back.

"Fair enough."

"Besides, the company could run without me," she said stiffly. Her tone was a little too defensive, she knew, but he'd somehow figured out a part of her she managed to conceal from most of the public. Clearly something about this man was off, if not dangerous. "Marines needed volunteers, I was a good candidate, and I'll have work to come home to once this war is over."

"Provided we win," he said shrewdly. "You have an awful lot of confidence, love."

Caroline bristled. "I told you not to call me that."

Klaus's mouth curved. "No, love, you told me not to call you _sweetheart_."

"No nicknames," she snapped.

"I can't see how we'll get along, then."

"We don't have to. We just have to survive."

"Well, I'd prefer to get along. It raises my chances of sleeping with you again."

Caroline's eyebrows shot up at that. Damn, this guy was _bold_. She'd be lying if she said there was no appeal to it, but that didn't make his statement any less crass.

"Not likely," she said coolly. "Pity lays aren't my thing."

His stormy eyes clouded further. But his smile juxtaposed the sinister light. "I'm glad to hear the first time wasn't a, as you call it, 'pity lay.' That means a lot, Jeunesse."

The instant she opened her mouth to snap at him for yet another nickname, Caroline realized she was dealing with a crafty type. Somehow she knew that if she reminded him of her rule, Klaus would condescendingly explain the difference between a nickname and a pseudonym.

Un-freaking-believable.

With a low groan, Caroline leaned against the cold wall opposite of her new… antagonist? Yes, that seemed to be a good word for him. There was no doubt he was doing all he could to push her buttons now that they had a moment of peace.

"I should have left you to die," she said heavily.

Amazingly, he had nothing to say to that. Klaus just shrugged.

If only she were on Earth, thought Caroline bitterly. She'd have gone sweet and quiet, used her spare time to dig up dirt on him, and used it against him like he was using her former career against her. And it wasn't that she was ashamed of being a former fashion designer-turned-Marine. But it reminded her of all she'd given up, the emptiness in her chest that had settled after her mother died of an aggressive brain cancer; how she sought the government and danger and massive changes both mental and physical just to cope with the pain once it became clear that liquor wouldn't do it for long, and hard drugs were not an option.

Well, she'd certainly attained her goal. Here she was, running away from _Apis_, with no good equipment and an asshole of a civilian somehow stuck in her side like a bur. And every step of the way, said asshole of a civilian chose to be a contrarian and needle her. How he thought that a useful expenditure of his energy, Caroline couldn't fathom.

Smart as it would be to keep moving, she was exhausted and needed the rest. Even super-soldiers needed to recuperate.

"We should take turns sleeping," she said flatly, not wanting to engage in more conversation than necessary. "You go first."

Klaus looked at her scornfully. "Don't be an idiot." When she opened her mouth to retort, he added ruthlessly, "As previously noted, you're the most capable of present company. I won't be of much use rested or unrested. You will. The least I can do is wake you."

He was right, of course. Caroline had come to the same conclusion well before he'd voiced it. But a deep gut feeling told her he was dangerous, perhaps as dangerous as the _Apis_. If she closed her eyes in front of him, what would happen then?

They analyzed each other for a few tense moments. Klaus was the first to move, and it was to heave a sigh and roll his eyes heavenward.

"I promise not to let the _Apis_ nibble on your lovely innards," he stated.

Caroline scowled.

"I swear on my dear sister," Klaus added with utmost reluctance.

It could be a trick, a ploy on her sympathy… and yet, thought Caroline, he had been utterly unwilling to mention siblings before. This could just as easily be a brief moment of sincere clarity. Both seemed equally likely, and she wasn't certain whether to trust her training or her gut. Both were useful, and either could steer her wrong.

She looked around, grabbing some small rocks from the ground. Most were black and grainy, reminiscent of basalt from Earth. Deliberately, Caroline placed a handful next to Klaus, pinning him with her hardest stare.

"You hear the slightest thing, and you wake me up," she hissed. "Even if you have to use these."

Klaus's mouth twitched, as though he badly wanted to make a smartass comment. Instead he hefted a couple of the stones in one hand, ruminating upon their feel and weight.

"Have a good sleep, Jeunesse," he murmured.

Trying to make peace with her unease, Caroline made herself comfortable sitting against the opposite wall and tried to do just that.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I was actually surprised this got any of the attention it did. Sci-Fi seems to be such a niche genre, and especially out of place in a supernatural fandom. I can only hope to do this justice._

_For those who don't know, "In the Same Ol' Crescent City" ended recently. It's my third-longest story in my many years of fanfic writing, and I'm especially pleased with both how it turned out and its reception. Thank you all for the support!_

_Let me know what you think of this chapter in the review section. I'm especially interested in the AU take on Klaus's history. (I also am still debating how much of The Originals background will work into these configurations. I started this chapter before Freya became a real, solid character in the show.) Any postulations as to who's about to join these two? If survival is even possible? Guess away! The cast and dangers only grow from here._

_Constructive criticism encouraged and deeply appreciated._

* * *

Jeunesse Blanchefleur was an enigma of astronomical proportions. That, naturally, was the main reason Klaus had become interested in the elusive designer in the first place. He couldn't let something beautiful lie in peace. It simply wasn't in his nature.

Of course, he never would have discovered the secret beauty had it not been for his sister. It had been a particular violet and gold dress she had worn out one night, colors that were all well and good, but it was the way the dress was put together that had caught Klaus's attention. Of course, his aesthetically gifted sister had worn it well, but more impressive was just how much of the creator had shown through. In the dress Klaus had seen fire tempered with precision; class with an edge of boldness; and most of all, an allowance for innate beauty to shine through no matter the circumstance.

His sister had been suspicious when he complimented her outfit, but being a creature of vanity, certainly hadn't argued with him. The Mikaelsons all had their flaws, and Rebekah's was conceit and falling in love with exactly the wrong men.

All night throughout the extravagance that had been the Mikaelson's posh political dinner party, Klaus had found himself intrigued and entranced by the dress. So much, in fact, that his dear father had misconstrued the interest as incestual desire and beaten him bloody that same night, long after his mother had retired drunk. The narcissism Klaus shared with his sister had spelled relief upon finding out the tooth his adoring father had knocked out had been one of the bicuspid. His charming smile was largely unaffected, though it did chill to Arctic ice.

Even as his lip had swollen, Klaus took it upon himself in the naked hours of dawn to begin his research. As many things did, it began with curiosity; reading into the annals of the internet, scrolling through his touch screen upon his blank canvas of a wall as he read up on the details of first the dress, then the stores that carried it, and then the designer.

Rapidly he found that, despite living in the age of excessive information, Jeunesse Blanchefleur was quite the mystery. No named parents, no relation to the infamous Blanchefleurs, no association with celebrity whatsoever. Nobody even knew if Jeunesse was actually a man or really a woman; that was how secretive she (Klaus assumed she, just a gut feeling) was.

She didn't do conferences, never announced herself at runway shows, even had her paychecks routed through such means it was damn near illicit. Klaus was impressed—and even more determined to find out who she was.

Her fashion was art. Not in the flashy, exaggerated way that the world had come to expect from runway models, but in a timeless, upbeat manner. Sometimes the colors and cuts she used spoke the volumes of a masterful painting.

In the months he looked into her, Klaus found that he was far from the only person obsessed with Jeunesse. There were several who mounted online and offline shrines in her name, a website that proclaimed to hold a statue comprised of Jeunesse's various sources of DNA such as hair and nail clippings. (This was, eventually, proven false when the fan was arrested for aggravated assault on unrelated charges. The bits of DNA the fan proclaimed were of Jeunesse's making ended up being that of an ailing old woman in a nearby nursing home.) Women wanted to be her, men wanted to be _with_ her, and both craved to cradle her talent in the palms of their hands.

And then, abruptly, her releases slowed. Not too surprising; war with their first contact of _hostile_ aliens took shape in the year 2109, and the veracity of that war meant resources for the frivolous things went down. Jeunesse still made clothing, but they grew less fashionable and began to journey toward the practical. When the United World Government bought out her designs for women's space wear, Jeunesse's agent announced her retirement.

Klaus had panicked.

It felt like abandonment. Many of her fans voiced the same sentiment. Some simply died out and moved on to other celebrity obsessions, while others pursued her identity with renewed vigor. Klaus was one of those in the latter category, given that celebrity desire had never been a trait of his. This wasn't about fame or jealousy; about lust or romance. This was admiration and the desperate need to connect with somebody who was clearly too smart to be caught.

Unhealthy. If he'd been of the mind to see a therapist, Klaus knew he would have earned all the marks of a stalker with bold aggression.

Instead of checking himself in with a mental professional, he doubled his efforts to discover her identity. At the same time, his beloved father doubled his efforts to make his life miserable. Still convinced Klaus held unholy lust toward his younger sister, the man of the house kicked him out of the expansive Mikaelson manor. Justifiable, of course—Klaus was plenty old enough, in his mid-twenties with plenty capability in his job. His father could kick him out of the house, but not the family business. There was only so much his drunken mother would allow to slip past her in her worst stupor.

What was not justifiable was when his dear old dad broke into his apartment, lay in wait, and attacked Klaus with a gun. No bullets. Not because his father was afraid to, but because he recognized the wisdom in using the weapon as an effective scare tactic while not leaving behind evidence such as marked bullets.

It was the first, but not the last, time Klaus would be pistol-whipped in his life.

His mother was no help. Sometimes he believed she didn't love him, not as much as she loved his father. Though there were days he believed she loved him more than anybody else, even her other children. Her affections were aggravatingly fickle that way.

Shortly after his assault, Klaus took a small reprieve in his search for Jeunesse to dig deep into his family history. One of the amazing things about living in his time was that DNA was kept in public records, for any one person. It was the smart thing to do, the United World Government insisted with severe solemnity. DNA on file reduced crime rates and increased knowledge. Each child was sampled at birth, and those records were held tight behind some lovely red bureaucratic tape. Because of these measures, crime went down, child support went up in both financial and positive public reactions to it, and medical histories were far more accurate.

On a whim, or perhaps because of his seething love-hatred for his father, Klaus dug into those files. What he found was equally shocking and utterly unsurprising: Mikael Fenrir Mikaelson III was not his father.

That at last gave him the courage to buckle down the hatches of his new home. Klaus fortified his small abode with little traps and dangerous trinkets. One day, he knew, he'd catch his father breaking in.

But he didn't. Instead he caught Rebekah attempting to climb in through the kitchen window, only to be met with a small pipe bomb explosion that knocked her free from the building and left her with nails and shrapnel in her face and chest. Ten hours of surgery was required to extract it all.

Klaus didn't even know she was alive until weeks later. He was arrested that day for illegal explosives, intentional assault, attempted murder, and government treason for breaking into classified information. No authority would tell him her status, and some even went so far as to hint that he was to be additionally charged with first degree homicide.

Only one of his brothers came to visit him in prison. The same brother escorted a seemingly unharmed Rebekah to see him. She appeared irritated with him, but nonetheless was willing to show off what advanced medical science and money could buy. What scars she bore were faint. She claimed they only showed up if she tanned—which she wasn't much of a fan of in the first place, so it worked out just fine.

Except, of course, in the case of Klaus's impending trial. And, of course, Rebekah was mysteriously absent from testifying. Klaus would later learn why, but for the time being her lack of support cut deep.

And he was, of course, found guilty on all counts. Homicide was obviously never brought to the table. His history with his father and the violence stemming from it were ruled inadmissible. Worse yet, his father's break-in and Klaus's DNA proving he was not his father's son were considered "inconsequential" and never brought up in trial.

The one small consolation was that death row inmates were permitted internet access to the outside world. No e-mail, no chat options, no forums—but he was allowed to read and learn by whatever sites the government deemed adequate.

So he continued looking into Jeunesse, and eventually found her identity. By then the war with the aliens, now known as _Apis_ for their bee-like appearance, had reached a frenzied crescendo. Voluntary soldiers were harder to come by. The public began to cry out for aid. There was a hard split between implementing a draft and vying for personal freedom. The debates and violence began to swell and sing a macabre verse about the deteriorating state of the world.

This meant the government had to do something to appease the masses. And they rapidly found a solution that, while sparking ire in some, resonated well with the majority of the world.

Death row inmates were to be drafted.

That was how Klaus found himself on the alien planet, well outside his solar system, and hiding in a clammy hole in the ground with broken or busted limbs and the most fantastical woman he had ever laid eyes upon tending to him.

It really was a shame she had chosen the Marine life, Klaus thought. There was no secret in his deep loathing for the government; after all, he had ended up on death row without killing anybody, and all pertinent evidence to his relative innocence had been shafted. Klaus still had no doubt that was in part thanks to his wealthy "father's" influence.

But, bloody hell, it had somehow ended with him miraculously paired with Caroline Forbes. Unfortunate in circumstance, yes, but Klaus kept his complaints to himself.

Instead he took the opportunity to watch her slumber.

Klaus had no doubt she disliked him by this point. He had never purported to be of particularly amiable character. Yet despite his poisonous words to her earlier, he felt the pull toward his Jeunesse yank harder than ever. She was just as intelligent as he'd assumed. More pleasantly, she was far more vivacious and headstrong in person. All the weak traits of his mother were pleasantly lacking. If he were to be honest, Klaus could almost say he was utterly in love.

Or infatuated. Obsessed. However the attraction pulled, it was glaringly apparent. And her reaction to him earlier, her willingness to expose herself to him (Klaus had never in his wildest dreams even imagined her so lovely naked) told him that there was at least some reciprocation on her end.

The time while she slept was going to be agony, he decided. He desperately wanted to speak with her more. To exchange barbs and insults while he tested her patience and limit for empathy. Klaus had always thrived on conflict and a certain modicum of chaos. He could only wait to see if she would respond positively to his affinities at all.

There was also a part of him that was curious how their relationship would develop before one or both of them died, given how inevitable death seemed. He also wondered if the _Apis_ would kill them before the environment or each other.

It was a fascinating prospect.

So fascinating in fact that fantasizing the various scenarios kept him occupied while Ms. Forbes slept. More than once Klaus jolted free from his meandering thoughts at unusual sounds, but nothing came of them. Each time he silently cursed himself. He had to be alert. Dying now went against his plans.

Though if he had to die, he aimed to learn much more about Ms. Forbes before his time came. And if he was particularly lucky, he would take a chance to find out if her lips—slightly parted now, revealing a sliver of white teeth—were as sweetly acerbic as he imagined.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally woke. No slow rousing for her; Ms. Forbes woke swiftly and was on her feet within seconds. She surveyed their surroundings. All that betrayed her emotions was the slight slump of her shoulders, as though disappointed upon remaining on the foreign, precarious planet. Klaus certainly couldn't blame her.

Softly he said, "Good morning, Jeunesse."

She finally graced him with her eyes, a small frown dancing on her mouth. "You really stayed up."

Klaus smirked. "What a kind way to remind me how offensive I look."

Ms. Forbes rolled her eyes. She remained standing, much to his dismay. "You should get some rest, too."

A mercurial grin overtook his face. "And what is my reassurance that you won't leave me behind as bait to die? It certainly seems it would be easier to travel alone."

She folded her arms beneath her breasts, smugness staining her eyes. "I'm a Marine."

His grin vanished. Memories of his day in court plagued him once more. With voice like ice, he said, "How fortunate for me."

"It's what you get," she said.

Oh, he could see himself loathing as much as loving her in virtually no time at all. Klaus glared, but when she refused to back down he scoffed and shifted. Agony ripped through his legs. He tried to control his expression by closing his eyes.

Klaus didn't think he'd be able to sleep in his state, but his bodily exhaustion blanketed his thoughts as he slipped into a dreamless slumber.

Stabbing pangs in his legs woke him so suddenly he believed the _Apis_ had caught hold of him. _She lead them to me,_ was his first thought, and it was so enflamed into his mind that when something cold touched his arm he lashed out. His fingers dug into a strange, stretchy material, yanking the form forward. Ms. Forbes was so taken aback that she actually stumbled. Klaus recognized who she was and released her at the same time she threw her free hand out, slamming his head back into the wall. Pain exploded in his nose and then the back of his skull. Klaus clamped his teeth to keep from shouting.

"What the hell is your problem?" she hissed.

Klaus considered answering. He truly did. But her palm was firmly lodged against his mouth, and he didn't feel like risking another hit should she decide he bit her this time. He _should_ have gone limp. Any animal, even human, could recognize that as a passive, submissive movement. Surrender.

But his reaction was to snarl and try to knock her hand away. Ms. Forbes kept firm, her superior enhanced strength and natural intense focus keeping him at a disadvantage. They glared at each other wordlessly, Klaus's chest heaving and her face bright with a light sheen of sweat, until the realization of their situation seemed to grasp hold again.

Disgusted, Ms. Forbes at last released him. "If you want to make it through this as _not_ alien food, I suggest you don't attack me again."

Klaus reached up to wipe his face. His fingers came back, betraying the crimson his nose had leaked.

"You are _awful_ jumpy for a Marine," he taunted. Which was stupid, he knew, yet that part of her he couldn't help but hate. "Should you truly be so proud of your skills when you can't tell the difference between a broken ally and the enemy?"

Her lovely blue eyes narrowed. "Who says you're any sort of ally?"

Fair enough, under typical circumstances. Klaus still found her argument silly. "I would hate to know who you do consider an ally, Jeunesse. It seems they might easily find themselves in pieces."

She closed the distance between them. Warm, almost sour breath washed over his face as she spoke. "I warned you not to get a big head just because I fooled around with you."

"Implying there is something wondrous enough about sleeping with you that my ego would suffer. Sounds like you're the one with the swollen self-importance."

"Seems reasonable to me," Ms. Forbes retorted. Her ears betrayed a pink blush, but she raged on as though he couldn't possibly notice. "Nobody, I mean _nobody_ has ever connected Jeunesse to me. I'd wager you suffer from some serious stalker tendencies."

Klaus bared his teeth. "Oh, love. You overestimated your security is all. Finding you was child's play, done in a mere afternoon of searching."

His blatant lie worked. Something cracked in her eyes, a trickling acknowledgement of fear and dismay betraying her before she appeared to recall her military training and covered it up. Ms. Forbes rolled her eyes and pulled away.

But the damage was done. Klaus didn't have to lie, and certainly there was nothing really riding his bluff. What difference would this knowledge make to her, now that she was in the Marines? More importantly, if they were close to death here, why would it matter?

For whatever reason, to her, it did. And he almost acknowledged the prodding guilt.

Instead Klaus shrugged it off and wiped his face again. The blood was barely a trickle, so his newest injury wasn't severe. His head did ache, and the bridge of his nose throbbed. At least nothing appeared broken.

After a few minutes of crackling silence, Ms. Forbes broke it with a disturbingly calm voice. "We need to keep moving."

Klaus only acknowledged her when she picked him up, and then only with a scowl before he turned his head. He pretended to take interest in his surroundings—which really wasn't hard. The rock around them scintillated with the few glimmers of light cracks from above could provide. They didn't come across any _Apis,_ though more than once they both noticed signs of the aliens' presence: shed outer skin and shell, dry husks of eggs that presumably once held their young, and black-on-grey tufts of fur. Some of the droppings appeared ancient, while others were still wet with slime that could only indicate recent movement. Klaus was uncertain whether the shudder he felt emanated from him or Ms. Forbes first.

Once more, the going was slow and agonizing. While the Marine was well-rested, both were hungry. Klaus was aware of the small pack of rations she kept strapped protectively to her thigh. But Ms. Forbes both refused to mention it or offer anything to eat. As for how she kept going… well, Klaus knew. And it definitely made him lose an edge of respect for her.

It was truly, truly unfortunate, the career she had chosen.

Perhaps the irritability stemming from hunger was what made him tell her so the next time they paused for a break.

Coldly, Ms. Forbes said, "Fortunately, your opinion means less than nothing."

_It shouldn't. While you'll never know, I've done much for you, Jeunesse._ Instead Klaus said, "The it shouldn't bother you to hear that inability to take criticism makes you a poor fashion designer. Though it certainly suits your choice in military."

Ms. Forbes threw her head back, staring at the ceiling as though she had to count before dealing with him again. When she did look down, she defiantly took a swig of water from her pouch without offering him any. Fine by him. There was no stream nearby, but Klaus knew it drove her mad to see him drink potentially toxic water from this strange planet. Next time, he promised himself.

"Here's something you _didn't_ know about Jeunesse," she said. "Compartmentalizing is my specialty."

"Well, that explains how you can overlook my atrocious personality and allow me to bring you to orgasm," he shot back cheerfully.

"Exactly," she returned sweetly. "You provided a means to an end. Girl's gotta let off steam somehow, and I'm not going to let my circumstances make me picky like I can afford to be back on Earth."

"Standards are a virtue."

"Oh, so I met your particularly high standards?"

Klaus smirked. "Who said mine were high, love?"

"Oh, so as a man, yours don't have to be?"

"I said _standards_ were a virtue. Mine may not be high, but they are consistent."

Ms. Forbes scoffed, taking another sip of water before she strapped the pouch back onto her person. "You can string together pretty words, but you're just as much a hypocrite," she said flatly. "I'll give you that you're good at twisting a conversation to suit your needs. So what were you back on Earth? A con artist? Did the military see value in that, so you willingly sold yourself out to an entity you hate for some quick cash?"

Klaus was about to reply, but something stopped him short. He studied her expression for untruth, but if there was any to be found she was excellent at hiding it. And previous encounters with her told Klaus that particular skill came and went.

So it really was possible that she had been in for so long, and away from Earth for such a time, and at such a distance so as not to receive common Earth news, that she had somehow not learned of the policy to draft death row inmates.

Well. That lifted a considerable weight off his shoulders. So much, in fact, that he was able to shrug at her verbal jab and look away.

Smug satisfaction radiated from her. Well, let it, Klaus decided. Sooner or later she'd find out the truth. Her reaction then would be all the more viciously sweet.

_Fantastic job, mate,_ he mocked himself. _You win her over well enough to have some intimacy despite grievous injuries, and now you've pushed her so far back she even carries you with revulsion._

Never let it be said he was not a master at screwing up interpersonal relationships.

After that the passage of time was difficult to track. The rise and fall of daylight on this planet was definitely different from Earth's. Typical equipment they could have used for tracking needed human sleep hours had been destroyed in the crashes, so they were operating on pure instinct. Conversation whittled down to the bare necessities.

The _Apis_ made themselves known, though never quite seemed to catch them. Klaus grudgingly gave Ms. Forbes the credit she was due there. Not aloud, of course. But he could acknowledge intelligence when he saw it.

Moreover, as frustrating as she was, he found that much more to admire about her. Not just the flair she possessed as Jeunesse, but her quick wit, her perception, and the manner in which she conducted herself all appealed to him greatly.

Pity he had more or less made an enemy of her.

If Klaus had to guess, they passed two Earth days in each other's company with relative silence. As the hours wore on, exhaustion and their dwindling supplies began to take their toll. Both became snippy, but the arguments died as quickly as they started. While Ms. Forbes could use her military enhancements to survive longer, she was still visibly beginning to wear down.

Bit by bit, despite their differences, Klaus began to notice she would portion their food rations in a manner where he received more. Foolish altruism, he decided. Yet he couldn't completely turn away the extra portions. His body was still battered and broken. He needed nutrients to heal. Even with the rations, what they had was not enough to sustain him to a full recovery, much less ensure the survival of both.

Perhaps it was this exhausting level of camaraderie that made Klaus ask, "Why did you join the Marines?"

Ms. Forbes eyed him warily from her perch just a couple yards away. Her eyes skittered back and forth, alert for enemies, though she acknowledged him. "We needed more military. It seemed the thing to do."

"So pure, unadulterated selflessness. How admirable."

This time her eyes did settle on him. Her expression portrayed annoyance, but her voice lacked viscosity. "You don't believe me."

Klaus tried to shift, but weakness and the crippling pain in his leg changed his mind. "Only a child is so naïve as to believe that is all it takes for a woman of your caliber to quit a career she clearly excelled in."

Ms. Forbes closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping. Without looking at him, she admitted softly, "There was a guy."

Naturally. Klaus bit down on his irrational jealousy and waited.

Still not looking at him, the ragged blonde continued. "We were about to get engaged when the war was announced. He decided to join. Then a year in I stopped receiving e-mails and messages." She shrugged, sliding off her rocky perch. "So I thought if I joined the Marines, maybe I'd find out what happened."

"Did you?" he inquired.

A wry smile tugged her lips. "I found out he was sent out here. But then nothing."

In short, he was likely dead. Klaus reigned in his urge to smirk at his fortune, as it was clearly not hers. So he said, "I'm sorry to hear that, Ms. Forbes."

She blinked, tilting her head at him in quiet observation. After a few heartbeats she quietly crouched beside him, scooping him back into her arms with only the slightest tremor betraying her fatigue.

Not long into this trek, they stopped again. This time there was something different. The cavern they had been traveling had, for the most part, been one long passage with a fork here and there. Now however they had stumbled across what looked to be a converging room. Dim light glimmered down from a small hole high above them, providing just enough light that even Klaus with his inferior eyesight could count nine different passageways branching off from where they stood.

Ms. Forbes set him down and propped him up against one of the walls. She stood before him, her hands grimly on her hips. "We have a couple options."

Klaus held up a finger, both to silence her and count. "You choose a path and wander it to ensure a modicum of safety while I risk waiting here, helpless." He held up a second finger. "Or we risk it together, which could prove fruitless and just wear you out."

"Sharp," she remarked.

He scowled at her. "I am not about to be bait."

She threw her hands up. The dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of her weary distaste for the situation as well. "I'm not crazy about either option, either."

"Then find another one."

"We don't exactly have the luxury of choice here."

"Nor do we have the luxury of time," Klaus pointed out curtly. "But given I am the injured party here, you'd best make a decision quickly, _Marine_."

Ice crystallized in Ms. Forbes' gaze. "If you don't want to be bait, maybe you should fix that attitude of yours."

"I don't see why I should, considering you prove my _attitude_ right at every turn."

Uttering a noise of disgust from her throat, Ms. Forbes turned in a slow circle, surveying each optional route. Though it was hardly the time, Klaus took the opportunity to slyly check out her backside. The fact she was dirty and roughed up only added to her primal appeal.

Klaus ensured his expression was neutral by the time she looked back at him.

"You're coming with me," she said, as though she were doing him the most enormous favor. (And she was.) "But you make one more stupid, condescending comment about my military career, and you'll be the meat shield if the _Apis_ find us."

That seemed fair. Klaus agreed.

They couldn't have traveled more than a mile into the chosen tunnel before a unique tension washed over them. Klaus tensed. Ms. Forbes went stiff as well, her head darting back and forth. Then she abruptly dropped him, where he landed with a piercing shout. Agony exploded in his legs with sizzling intensity. Then a loud _crack!_ perforated the still, damp air around them. Klaus shouted again, this time for the Marine. Somehow he simply _knew_ she had been shot. Red oozed into his vision, stinging his eyes.

"Don't move!" a male, very Earth voice shouted. "Or I'll kill you, too!"

Finally Klaus realized the fiery new pain in his head. He reached up with a shaking hand, feeling the hole in his forehead. His fingers stained crimson. The sick, dizzying realization that he was in the throes of death overtook him, and he vomited.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I am really, really sorry about how long it's been since I last updated a story. Long excuse short, I went into labor early and have been busy with my newborn. I realize the chapter is much shorter than the others, but it seems a good place to leave off. I'll try to make the next longer if I can. Thank you for your patience, and please enjoy. Constructive criticisms always appreciated._

* * *

Caroline knew something was wrong almost immediately. It wasn't _just_ the hairs rising on the nape of her neck, or the sinking feeling in the pit of her belly. Also aiding her reaction was the subtle gradual lack of an echo as she plodded along the tunnel, and then the barest whispering intake of breath just before she dropped the man she was carrying. Not to hurt him, but to save him.

The shot rang out, splitting the air along with her eardrums.

When she realized there was no pain aside from the ringing in her ears, she knew she had failed. A quick glance downward told of the bullet wound in Klaus's head. The fact he was alive was sheer miracle. But then the shooter began screaming orders at her, and her temper flared.

By his words, the shooter had admitted he already thought Klaus dead (and he might die any moment), so Caroline didn't concern herself with the notion of further injury to her companion. Instead she darted to the side, narrowly avoiding another gunshot. This one ricocheted off the glittering stone and pinged elsewhere. Nobody screamed. Perhaps it didn't hit anybody. Maybe it was the final shot that murdered Klaus.

God damn it, she was here to fight the _Apis_, not some insane human who had somehow stranded themselves here.

(It did dimly occur to her that the enemy thought the same of her.)

That didn't stop her from rushing him from the side. She feinted to the left, and the disheveled man swung his gun at her feint. Too late he realized his mistake, because in the space of a blink she dove to his right and tackled him. Her head slammed into his ribs until she heard a dull, satisfying _snap!_

The gun clattered.

They both fell.

Caroline scrambled back to her feet, but the man snagged her leg and somehow managed to yank her until she flipped onto her back. Air erupted from her lungs in a violent expulsion. She used her free leg to kick him. Nothing connected, but he did let go.

By the time the stranger was on his feet, Caroline had only picked herself up into a crouch. That was going to have to be all she needed. She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his knees so that he fell to the ground again. This time she had the advantage. The enemy's head cracked into the solid stone floor and appeared to daze him.

A foreboding _click_ gave her pause. Caroline raised her head to find a human woman standing over her, with what appeared to be an old, modified shotgun aimed at her skull. Most remarkable about the woman's appearance were her sharply check-marked eyebrows making her frigid gaze all the more piercing.

"I think you're done, here," said the woman coolly.

"Yes, _you_ are."

Klaus's rough voice startled them both. Caroline twisted to find the man still on the floor, his head bleeding profusely. Yet despite the gaping hole in his skull, he aimed the once-fallen pistol at the newcomer. His eyes clashed like a roiling storm over the sea behind a curtain of blood. His gaze promised nothing but imminent death.

"How the hell are you alive?" spat the man Caroline remained atop.

Klaus's mouth twisted in a mocking smile. His aim remained extraordinarily steady.

"Let my friend stand," Klaus ordered.

The woman pressed the muzzle of the gun within an inch of Caroline's face. Caroline could smell the heavy residue of gunpowder. This weapon had been fired fairly recently. "You don't have any power here," she shot back. "If you shoot, I kill her."

"And if you kill her, I kill you," Klaus said. "Either way you'll be dead, sweetheart."

He seemed all the more impressively dangerous with a freely bleeding head wound and a rock-steady hand, Caroline realized. There was much, much more to this arrogant, spiteful civilian than she had originally supposed.

With careful calm, Caroline chose to speak. "What if we all drop our weapons?"

Nobody had an answer to that. It was the most embarrassingly obvious one. The _Apis_ were certain to come any moment, now that shots had literally fired. For the first time since their brief meeting, fear bled into the eyes of their human adversaries. All knew what would befall them should the _Apis_ come across any single person before safety could be reached: the slicing of flesh from bone, the screams, the pools of blood left behind that would become the only hint anything had ever gone awry. That is, is there was any blood to pool, given a more recent penchant the aliens displayed for drinking the stuff. _Apis_ appeared to utilize every bit of skin and bone, for they left nothing behind.

Almost breathless with fear and anger, the woman with the shotgun said, "We don't have provisions for both of you."

"Just him," said Caroline quickly. "I have some for myself. But he's injured." Obviously, and far more than the bullet that could be rattling in his brain, for all any of them knew.

The woman cast a sideways glance at Klaus, her mouth hardening to a thin line. "Put your gun down."

"Go to hell," Klaus snarled.

_You idiot,_ thought Caroline in abject fury. Certainly a man couldn't be so prideful as to spit in the face of the only other humans on an alien planet, could he?

In response, the woman jammed the muzzle against Caroline's face. The metal was cold, turning her cheek into ice upon contact. Caroline closed her eyes briefly, vowing to pay her stupid companion back if they somehow both made it through this.

"I said, drop it," the woman threatened through clenched teeth.

Skittering in the distance then reached the group. Caroline felt the strange man's legs stiffen beneath her at the sound. Hundreds of spindly legs, all sharp, all moving with deadly purpose.

_Apis._

Cold indifference changed Klaus's expression in that moment. He set down the pistol. Caroline also released the strange man's legs, and the barrel of the shotgun at last left her vision.

Without a word, she scrambled to her feet. The woman kept her weapon at the ready, nodding once to Caroline. She took it as permission to aid her (_Stupid, stupid_) companion by lifting him up. Blood oozed freely from his skull. The flesh of his face stretched thin and white.

"You idiot." She snarled her earlier insult in his ear. Klaus pressed his lips together and didn't answer.

The other man shot her a dark glance, his eyes black yet expressive, warning her to shut up. Caroline did so and, without question, followed his lead. The cold-faced woman brought up the rear. Always Caroline swore she felt the lethal weapon prepared to fire into her spine at any moment. She wasn't certain if it was due to her sensation of the new woman's possible murderous intent or her shaky nerves. All the Marine knew for certain was that the skittering was growing louder and they were running out of time.

Shortly after she thought so, the man before her stopped. He bent to his knees, before coming to a small hole similar to the kind Caroline and Klaus had hidden in days before. Bemused, she watched as he wriggled his way in and vanished.

Behind her, the woman said, "Go."

Caroline shot her a look. "How am I supposed to bring him?"

"You don't."

"That wasn't the deal."

The woman shrugged, holstering her gun. "Your loss." Fury swelled within Caroline as she watched the bitch wriggle through the narrow space and vanish.

"Go," Klaus muttered. His expression was even more worn than before, his eyes dark with resignation even as fire burned deep in his widened pupils.

Caroline sighed and lowered him to the ground close to the crevice. Something flickered in her antagonist-companion's eyes, almost… sad? Longing? She tried not to dwell on it.

Instead she set herself to squirm in feet first. Caroline grasped hold of his shoulder, grimly saying, "Can't promise this won't hurt like hell."

Indeed, from Klaus's explosive yet impressively quiet gasps and grunts, dragging him that way was absolute torture. The hole grew dark rapidly, until even Caroline couldn't see the sickening way his broken leg jostled as she pulled. The trek was slow and awful. Likely the _Apis_ couldn't follow them, not through such a small opening, but there was a small chance they could send their young in. Caroline—or rather, the United World Government—knew little about the aliens' colonies, whether they used their children in battle or nurtured them safely in some sort of nest away from the war. Either way, the skittering sounds remained distant for the time being.

A couple times Caroline had to stop and rest. She could sense Klaus's impatience building, and for once she couldn't blame him. Each time they stopped, he had to endure his pain in a quiet, throbbing way. Hurt borne from sympathy made her own head ache.

Eventually she felt the hole broadening until she could crawl. She couldn't turn or glance over her shoulder, so she had to take it on faith that they were getting somewhere.

At long last, a sweet gust of air gave whispers of imminent freedom. Caroline finally emerged into a larger cave, dragging the teeth-clenched Klaus with her.

Of course, they were met with a weapon.

"Who the fuck is this?"

Caroline stared up at the speaker, and felt her stomach drop.

"Damon," she whispered.

Her old fiancé stared down at her, military-issued gun in hand. He glanced toward the wheezing, barely living Klaus, and then back to her. Slowly, he said, "What are you doing here?"

She stood, noting that the barrel of his gun followed her. Anticipation clenched her heart. "I was sort of hoping for a better welcome if I found you," she said as breezily as she could.

A slight tilt of his head was her fiancé's only acknowledgement.

Well, she thought. This could have been going much smoother.

Despite the conditions around them, he looked good. His piercing blue eyes, intense as a tsunami, were alert and critical. His hair had grown a bit raggedly out of the standard Marine cut with dark wisps grazing over his eyelashes. The only major difference she could see was that his strong jaw had been broken and reset at some point. It was an immaculate job, with only a little protrusion, and whatever swelling he must have experienced had long gone down.

The man with black eyes from the caves approached, looking at and only speaking to Damon. "You know them?"

"Just her," said Damon cavalierly. "We've been acquainted."

Wow.

Though now was hardly the time, Caroline raised her voice. "_Acquainted?_ So that's the new way of brushing off a fiancée? Oh, I'm sorry, please excuse me, because clearly that's _ex_-fiancée."

"What do you want me to say?" he shot back, clearly annoyed. "I didn't think I'd make it home. How long should I grieve before moving on?"

She barked a short, derisive laugh. "Move on? To _what?_"

"Whom," a gentle, new voice intruded. From the back of a cave, a petite young woman waved awkwardly. "Hi."

Oh, well, freaking perfect. Caroline blow out a harsh breath, wanting to rant and rave more, but she didn't need to contribute to what she assumed was Damon's description of her lunacy. (Seriously. _Asshole._) Instead she turned and gestured to Klaus, her mouth thin and tone brittle. "Your buddy here shot him."

"Standard procedure," said Damon without sympathy.

"Oh, stop," the new woman said. She stood and ambled forward, kneeling beside Klaus and examining his head. She let out a low whistle, but when she spoke she continued to address Caroline's ex. "You really should rethink that procedure when it comes to our own kind."

Damon's ice-blue eyes turned to her. Annoyance tempered with gentleness that Caroline was stunned to see directed at anyone but her—hell, she didn't even think she'd been granted such levels of kindness—colored his voice. "Is this one even worth saving?"

The woman looked up at him sternly. "You know my policy."

Damon sighed, at last holstering his gun on his side. "Everyone is," he intoned, indicating he'd heard it a thousand times before.

Caroline felt like she had wandered into an unreasonable, almost literally hilarious alternate universe. How had she gone from forlorn fiancée to dismissed ex in such a short time span? Clearly the young woman prodding the barely conscious man on the ground was Damon's new beau, but… _seriously?_

Once they were out of the woods, one way or another, Caroline owed her ex a verbal shredding.

She chose to focus her attention on Klaus, who had opened his eyes and was staring at the new woman before him with as much skeptical ire a man in his position could muster. The woman lightly touched the side of his head, gripping something smoothly metallic in her hand as she passed it over the curve of his skull. "How do you feel?" the woman inquired.

"Like I've been shot in the head," Klaus snapped.

Caroline struggled to hide a smile.

The woman rolled her eyes, pausing to read the contraption in her hand. "You're lucky. The bullet went around the side of your head instead of all the way through." She shifted. "But your brain is swelling. I need to cut you open."

"What are you, a doctor?"

"Yes."

Caroline blinked, stunned at their fortune. Klaus appeared to be entertaining the same thought.

The woman put her medical device away, folding her hands in her lap as she gazed with solemn thought at Klaus. "I can't knock you out. I can numb the area a little, but you'll still feel some pain. Either way, I have to remove the bullet. Your parietal lobe is swelling into it, and if we're not careful this could kill you."

Shrewdly, Klaus inquired, "How much of this Novacane do you have?"

"I don't," she said simply. "Something similar, but it's lower grade. And not much."

Klaus scoffed and winced. "Forget it. Just cut me open."

Surprise registered on the doctor's face. "I don't think you understand—"

"I understand supplies are limited and that I'm close to death, so you may as well cut open my bloody head now," Klaus almost shouted.

The doctor sighed, and Damon perked up for the first time. "You heard him, my dear. That's consent to me."

Choosing to ignore her lover (oh, Caroline also needed to have some choice words with _her_, too), the doctor waved down the man and woman from earlier. "Hayley, Tyler. Help me out, here."

Medicine was not her forte, so Caroline was relieved not to be a big part of it. But since Damon was the only other person unoccupied, she settled on a rock beside a makeshift bed the others had lain Klaus upon.

The initial portion of the surgery made even her stomach churn a little. Unmedicated, the slices through the thin, sensitive flesh of his skull made Klaus shout so loudly that the man—Tyler—had to stuff his mouth with a dirty rag. He'd tried using his hand, but Klaus immediately bit and drew blood. Caroline couldn't say the filth of the cloth was unjustified, and from the way Tyler cradled his hand after, he agreed.

Once the doctor began cutting into bone, Caroline focused on the exhausted man on the floor. "No anesthetic. Ballsy."

"Why are you talking to me?" he asked raggedly. His eyes fluttered. The tediousness and agony of the day's events appeared to be taking him over, trying to lull him to sleep even as the doctor used a small saw to cut into bone.

Caroline focused on his mouth to avoid the open gore. "Guess you're kind of my only ally," she admitted.

A weary smirk touched his lips. "Now I'm an ally?"

"Temporarily."

"Shut up," said the doctor absently. "I'm working."

From then on silence reigned. Hayley remained nearby, handing the doctor tools as she requested them. Caroline had nothing to do but fidget. Within minutes Klaus seemed to fall asleep, and she wondered if he would ever wake up again.

_He better,_ she thought bitterly. Everyone else was, as far as she was concerned, more enemy than friend.

At long last, the doctor extracted the surprisingly intact bullet. She breathed a gentle sigh. Tension did not leave her shoulders. "Do we have any glue left?"

Hayley didn't even look. "Nope. Ran out weeks ago."

"Hmm." The doctor's small, deft hands placed the skull piece back upon Klaus's head, finally covering his brain. "Miss, he'll have to be very careful as that heals. Okay, I need sutures."

Caroline decided to wander off into what empty space they had, sitting down with her back against the wall. Now that Klaus appeared to be okay, she needed to think.

What plan could she possibly come up with? Survival seemed slightly more likely now, but the others had made it clear supplies were limited. And while she knew Damon, she also wanted to knock his head clean off his shoulders. Certainly he wasn't about to vie for her in that case. Of them all, the doctor acted the most compassionate—but how could Caroline trust a homewrecker?

She put her head in her hands, tugging her hair in frustration. Deadlines for a new line of intricate ball dresses she could handle. Flying her own craft, that she could pour her confidence into. But trying to survive with her cheating ex-fiancé and his hostile buddies? That would be tricky.

During her musings, the man called Tyler sat beside her. His hand was wrapped in a clean bandage. "Sorry about earlier," he muttered. When Caroline raised her head to look at him, he continued to stare ahead. "Damon's a dick, but that's one aspect he's right about. It's rough trying to survive here."

"Yeah, humans look so much like the _Apis_," she grumbled.

Tyler scowled but still didn't meet her gaze. "We used to be more. We've whittled down to this because everybody kept turning against each other. Hell, we had a small group break off into a faction who wanted to _cannibalize_ the rest of us. So excuse us for being a little testy."

All her Marine training overrode her sense of justice. Caroline deflated a little, unable to admit he was wrong.

"Apology accepted," she said softly. "And… for what it's worth, I'm sorry my friend is also a dick."

With a slight incline of his head, Tyler flashed her a genuine, friendly smile. Caroline tentatively returned the gesture.

Soft footsteps fell before them, and they both looked up. "What's up, Elena?" asked Tyler.

_Elena._ The name alone soured in Caroline's throat. She swallowed and put on her best blasé expression.

Some fresh blood stained with old on Elena's shirt, but she was smiling. "He'll be fine. So long as he takes especially good care of his head for a couple months, anyway."

A couple months. Caroline closed her eyes, trying not to think too hard about how desolate she was. Instead she said, curtly, "Good to hear."

Elena raised an eyebrow, her smile disappearing. "Tyler, can I have a minute with her?"

"What, like I won't be able to hear you from over there?"

Dryly, Elena replied, "I pretend not to hear you hump Hayley some nights."

Caroline loathed her desire to laugh, especially when Tyler's ears reddened. Mumbling, he stood and stalked over to the aforementioned woman, who looked as amused as Caroline felt.

Once they were (relatively) alone, Elena sat beside Caroline. "I'm sorry," she said so softly that Caroline would have been surprised others could hear her. "I didn't know he'd been… engaged."

Caroline wanted to snap at her, yet found herself saying, "Guess it's my own fault for buying the reason why he didn't want a ring."

Hesitant, Elena said, "How long ago?"

Immediately Caroline knew where she was going with her question. "About a year."

Something akin to relief betrayed the doctor's thoughts. Without her having to say anything, Caroline realized that of all the awful things, one sin Damon had not committed was cheating. Sort of. She could get technical and say they never split, but… well, when one was stranded, a year could seem forever.

Not that she was about to forgive him. "You can keep him," Caroline said loftily, avoiding Elena's soulful stare.

"I'd planned on it," was the simple reply. "I am sorry for the situation, but—"

"It is what it is," Caroline echoed with her. "Yeah. I got it."

"Ideally, I'd like us to be friends," offered Elena. "It sucks enough here without them. But I'll settle for civility and cooperation."

Caroline directed an arched eyebrow at her. "Are you the ambassador as well?"

Elena smiled.

Heaving a sigh, Caroline leaned back into the cold, rough rock. "We'll just have to see how this goes, I guess."

"Good enough for me." With surprising candor, Elena patted her on the arm then rose to walk away. Caroline followed her form all the way back to Damon, who kissed Elena as though nobody else were there.

Cold, worn to the bone, and heartbroken, Caroline curled up and forced herself to nod off.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for the well-wishes for my baby, everyone! And thank you, sincerely, for the reviews. I understand the oddness of a story like this in a fandom like TVD, but I'm truly enjoying writing this little piece. That said, please don't freak out if a pairing you don't like occurs at any one point. I strive for realism and some parallels to the show, even in an AU, with the most accuracy I can while still trying to create a new idea with our favorite characters. If you don't like any of them, that's fine! I don't mind. And I love feedback; I can't know what I'm doing right or wrong if I'm not told. Just... be constructive if you choose to express it. I likely won't change my mind on plot points, but I'm always open to the idea that something I'm doing isn't working. Either way, constructive criticism is always welcome!_

_ Also, I did make this chapter extra long by almost a thousand words over my usual goal for this story, as promised. So. Enjoy!_

* * *

When Klaus awoke, he felt as though he'd been pistol-whipped again. His head throbbed everywhere, and without opening his eyes he could pinpoint where the doctor had operated. Then again, who could forget a scalpel taken to their head with no anesthetic?

But he did open his eyes, and the sight he was greeted with could not have been more glorious.

"Good morning, Jeunesse." He inwardly cursed as he slurred a little.

"Evening," she returned. Apparently he had been out long enough for her to run some water through the grime in her hair and wipe her face. "You've been asleep for two days."

"Needed it," he murmured, closing his eyes again.

"No kidding." When he lifted a hand to feel the bandages, she firmly swatted it away. "Don't touch," she chastised as though talking to a small child. "Elena says you'll need to be extra careful for a while."

Elena must have been the doctor. Klaus rolled his eyes open, shooting Ms. Forbes an exasperated stare before he forced himself to sit up. She pursed her lips at him, refusing to be baited into aiding him since he'd already refused her.

"I'm quite surprised I wasn't murdered in my sleep."

Ms. Forbes raised a shoulder. How amazing she looked, he suddenly realized. With her hair cleaner, it looked like woven daylight against the dark glimmer of rock. The room was barely lit with a kerosene lantern, and yet he was mesmerized.

Distractingly, she said, "I owed you one. You know, for saving me back there."

"Yes, well."

She waited expectantly, but when he said nothing more, Ms. Forbes sighed and shifted from a crouch to a sitting position. She glanced around and Klaus followed her gaze. The others were asleep—all but for Damon, whose eyes seemed riveted to Klaus with cold fury.

"Your fiancé is charming," he said wryly, well aware Damon could hear.

"Ex," Ms. Forbes said shortly. "Just ignore him. I do."

"Stay classy, Caroline," Damon called from the short distance across the cavern.

"Not that hard next to you," she snapped.

His surgery-related headache only grew worse. Tersely, Klaus said, "Your idea of ignoring somebody seems to lack some essential elements. Such as the ignoring part."

If looks could kill, Ms. Forbes's would have been able to stab him twenty times, sever his spine in the process, and toss him screaming to a swarm of _Apis_. Rather than raise a finger toward him, she said primly, "The others went to get food and water. _Asshole_ here is making sure we don't start a coup."

"Are we?" Klaus asked mockingly, sneering in Damon's direction. "I must have forgotten amongst all the drama of breaking half the bones in my body and getting shot."

"In the head," she agreed.

In the head, he echoed silently. The fact he had survived not just a plummet toward a hostile alien planet, but also a direct shot to the skull, told Klaus luck was astronomically on his side. For once. Where had all that luck been when his "father" had been destroying him physically, psychologically, and legally?

Across the cavern, Damon cleaned the shotgun the other woman had wielded days before and chose not to comment on their conversation. He did twitch a little, though. Klaus was viciously satisfied. Any fool who gave up Jeunesse was one who had never deserved her in the first place.

Then again, he was a tad biased.

Weariness began to seep into his tattered bones. Klaus shifted with a wince. Surgery was hard on the body, particularly without drugs. What he wouldn't give for a small dose of Percocet.

Ms. Forbes eyed him critically. "Maybe you should lie down."

"Can't," he muttered. "Our coup will fail."

She snorted and hid her mouth behind her hand as she glanced away. The simple movement allowed the lantern to highlight her face with soft orange glows, dancing erotically as the shadows caressed her flesh.

How interesting that in the face of _Apis_ they fought, yet in the face of her ex-fiancé they joined forces. Klaus allowed himself a dark smile. As much as he vacillated between wanting to comfort and wanting to antagonize her, his admiration for Jeunesse didn't dull and fade as he had assumed—and initially hoped—it would. He recognized how unhealthy his feelings toward her were. He wasn't an idiot. But he certainly wanted to pursue their interactions further, see which way they crystallized and grew.

Suddenly Ms. Forbes looked back to him, her smile gone and eyes all business. "So here's the deal," she said quietly. "Elena—the doctor—says it'll take a couple months for you to heal."

That wasn't much help, given they had no good way to account for the time passing. Klaus opened his mouth to say so, but the look she gave him promised worse pain if he interrupted.

"Hayley—crazy bitch—is from a women's death row back on earth. Apparently she manipulated a lot of people into an area so they could be slaughtered. Did you know they were sending death row inmates to space to fight the war? Freaking idiots. Unbelievable." Klaus wisely kept his mouth sealed. "Tyler—other guy—just joined the Marines. He was in Asshole's platoon coming in for a rescue mission. They almost got away, but the _Apis_ swarmed them. They lost a lot of people. Hell, there used to be more here. But most of them are either dead or abandoned the group. So probably dead. Elena was here with Crazy and they were supposed to be rescued." She raised a hand in a defeated gesture, and then let it fall to her knee. "So that's who we're dealing with."

"Sounds like you make friends quickly," Klaus said.

She raised her eyebrows. "Jealous?"

"Hardly." He cast a sidelong glance toward her ex-fiancé. "Basically, we can't trust any of them."

"Not necessarily."

Oh, lovely.

Heedless of his thought, Ms. Forbes said, "Tyler's not half bad. He's a boot—" Marine slang for new blood, Klaus knew, "—but he's resourceful. He's basically their scout; keeps an eye on the women when they go foraging, amongst other things. And he's not bad in a fight." She smiled faintly. "Not as good as me, but not bad."

Unrighteous jealousy surged in Klaus. He stared ahead stonily, wondering what the hell had happened while he had slept.

"And Elena's a pretty good doctor. She stitched you up well." Annoyance filtered into her voice. "Apparently she's Asshole's conscience."

A loud sigh echoed through the cave. Damon shot them a long glare. "I _can_ hear you, Barbie."

"I know," said Ms. Forbes sweetly.

Setting down the shotgun, Damon at last gave them undivided attention. "Look, for what little it's worth, I'm sorry your feelings are hurt."

"Oh, so _after_ your new fling gives you grief, it finally occurs to you that I deserve an apology? And a piss-poor one at that?"

"Didn't say you deserved an apology at all."

"Well, you sure as hell deserve being stranded here."

"Likewise."

Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose in an unsuccessful attempt to stave off the impending migraine. _And then there are the times she opens her lovely mouth, and I wonder if she's truly out of high school,_ he thought irritably. She had certainly chosen her ex-fiancé with the same discerning criteria of a young student.

In an aggravated, desperate attempt to change the subject, Klaus said loudly, "What were so many humans doing on the planet's surface?"

Both looked at him, Ms. Forbes in puzzled surprise and Damon with wary suspicion. "How long have you two been out of the loop?"

"About a month," said Ms. Forbes.

Klaus merely shrugged.

With exaggerated patience, Damon said, "We started small colonies a long while back. The _Apis_ were supposed to have been killed off, but apparently they have a hidden nest somewhere. The bastards overtook us about thirteen months ago. I was supposed to be the last rescue mission for a certain bleeding heart doctor and her patients."

Klaus accepted the explanation with a short nod, but Ms. Forbes appeared horrified. "We laid claim to this planet?"

Nonplussed, Damon said, "_Apis_ aside, it's a good planet for human life. We could grow here."

"No," she insisted, rising to her feet. "Bad enough we're in this war, but now we're displacing another species from their home? Where's the fairness in that?"

Klaus and Damon shared a brief, knowing moment of incredulity. "All aboard the Justice Train, heading straight for Moralityville," Damon called jeeringly. "No stops! All you can eat Self-Righteousness Finger Sandwiches!"

"Screw you," said Ms. Forbes in disgust.

"We didn't start this interspecies war," Damon snapped, his jovial tone displaced by fury. "But we're sure as hell going to finish it. What did you think you were signing up for?"

"I signed up to find you!"

"You're an idiot."

That last comment had come from Klaus, not Damon. Ms. Forbes whirled on him, surprise naked in her features. He stared back at her unapologetically and forged forth with brutal coldness. "You joined a war to find a lost fiancé. Perhaps altruism played a part, but it's plain to see what drove you to make the leap. I admire your work, Jeunesse, but that was foolishness of the utmost degree."

Damon threw up his hands in exasperation. "_Finally._ Apparently the only voice of reason was asleep the past couple days."

Klaus scowled.

Cheeks enflamed, Ms. Forbes grabbed a nearby object and threw it at Klaus. The agony in his head slowed his thoughts and reflexes to molasses, so when the dull end of a scalpel hit his surgery site, Klaus shouted and recoiled in fury. His first thought was to rise and smash her head into the rocks.

But he was injured.

So when he snatched the scalpel and slashed out, it occurred to him that Caroline—_not_ Ms. Forbes, she'd just thrown a literally bloody knife at him—shouldn't have been surprised when he stabbed her leg. The shock of actually being struck flooded her face, and she just stared at him in mute horror.

Blessedly, Damon took advantage of the single breath of silence to come between them. He shoved Caroline back, shouting, "Are you insane? We already wasted medical supplies on him! Why the hell are you making it worse?"

"He stabbed me!" She still sounded more stunned than angry or hurt.

"And I'll do it twice should you ever bloody touch me again!" shouted Klaus. The pulsating pain and outrage made it a struggle to stay sitting up. His vision swarmed and tinged with red. "Get the hell away from me!"

Damon shook his head, but Caroline didn't seem to notice him at all.

"What the _fuck_ is all this noise?" Hayley's voice shouted from the small opening not far from Klaus's makeshift bed.

Shaking his head with disgust, Damon stalked away from them without so much as a concerned glance toward Klaus. Well, that suited him just fine. He felt Caroline's eyes on him, but stubbornly stared well away from her.

Within minutes Hayley, Tyler, and Elena wriggled through the entrance. Almost immediately Elena let out a dismayed cry and ran to tend to Caroline. Within moments Caroline redirected her to Klaus's side, where she shone a light in his eyes and asked him questions. Klaus curtly responded in words that amounted more to where she could shove the flashlight than answers to her inquiries.

In turn, Tyler helped Caroline remove the scalpel and applied a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. Hayley hung back from it all, shaking her head in mocking amusement.

"See, Ty, I told you we couldn't leave the exes alone," she murmured.

"How is this _my_ fault?" Damon demanded.

"Is it?" Elena shot back.

"No!" The two stared at each other, and Damon was the first to crack. "Maybe. A little. Not nearly as much as theirs."

Elena sighed.

Caroline apparently saw her opportunity, because she focused on Elena and said, "You were part of this alleged colonization process?"

"No, I was part of the medical team," said Elena with tired patience as she finished unwinding Klaus's bandage and gently inspected his scalp. He gritted his teeth through the pain, wishing everybody would just silence themselves for a few hours. Waking up had been a mistake, it seemed.

Unfortunately, Elena continued speaking. "If you're asking whether or not I approve, I don't. But my first and foremost duty has always been my patients."

"Your incessant arguing is trying _my_ patience," Klaus growled.

Elena ignored him and set about giving him new bandages. "You're bleeding a little, but nothing seems to be swelling. Bet it hurt like hell, though."

Klaus settled for glowering at the dark-haired woman. She shrugged at his lack of response, rising to leave the moment his head was sufficiently wrapped again.

In the wake of Klaus and Caroline both stewing, Hayley decided to give Damon a breakdown of their time on the surface. "So," she drawled, setting down a makeshift bag, "we had trouble finding water. But the good news is, we found a wreckage with a _ton_ of supplies."

Klaus groaned knowing Caroline was about to pipe in.

Indeed, she said sharply, "Was that _my_ ship?"

"Probably," Hayley said dismissively.

"What's ours is yours, and yours is ours," Tyler said quietly. "You have some good, intact stuff we can all use."

Caroline opened her mouth, appeared to reconsider, and then waved her hand. "Fine. Use it."

"Gee, thanks," Hayley said, her voice dripping with heavy sarcasm.

Klaus finally sank back to the poor excuse of a bed in resignation. He covered his eyes with the crook of his arm, grimacing when even the slightest touch aggravated his migraine. Only pure darkness and silence would help, yet it didn't sound as though this ridiculous cacophony would end anytime soon. He would have had better luck getting better by asking soft-spoken Elena to scream into his ears.

Once he was healed, these imbeciles were in for a _world_ of hurt. Caroline not excluded.

The others unpacked the foraged supplies, including one of five small canisters meant for water. The pithy amount sloshing about sobered the room, a grim reminder of their ever-precarious situation.

For a time after that Klaus drifted in and out of sleep, his headache growing far worse before it got better. It seemed like several days passed before he could wake up and the dim lantern didn't make him dry-heave. By then he felt incredibly weak. Elena had refused to give him anything other than small morsels, insisting he was too likely to throw them up. Klaus suspected it may have been true, but also that it was equally likely the other five were attempting to ration out the portions amongst themselves while they had the chance. Once he began to recover, then the true ties would be tested.

Klaus learned how they tracked time. Once, through a dull headache, he grudgingly listened to Tyler just as grudgingly explain how using Earth time had almost driven them mad. As a result they had resorted to a simpler system. From the time this planet (which they tentatively called Apidomi, apparently upon Elena's suggestion months back) spun from the sun rising in the north to rising once more, roughly 60 hours passed. They figured approximately four Earth days passed when one did on Apidomi. So as four Apidomi days passed, ten would have on Earth.

Adjusting to Apidomi time was worse than his surgery. Humans had evolved to work to Earthly ideas of day and night. So when day bore on for twenty-seven hours and night was a torturous thirty-three, tensions rose high and Klaus and Caroline found themselves even snippier than usual. Not that the stabbing incident had helped—and how had it been dubbed "the stabbing incident" anyhow? She had thrown the first punch. Or scalpel, in this case. Klaus spent hours brooding over the injustice in rumpled disbelief.

On one of the days, Caroline came back with Tyler from a scouting event with her clothing torn. Klaus had his suspicions, but feared giving voice to them. Instead he took one look at her and stated, "Give me your suit."

She stared at him incredulously. "What? No." Tyler also frowned as though perturbed by the request.

Rolling his eyes, Klaus said tersely, "It's nothing I haven't seen before. Just give me your suit and something to sew with."

Caroline opened her mouth, then closed it thoughtfully. "I can patch my own clothes."

"Yes, I know, _Jeunesse_," he said impatiently. "And I realize you'd rather die than so much as permit me the slightest glance of your bosom. But you must realize that I am _bored_. Quite frankly, if I don't have something to do, I would be more than happy to stab your other leg."

Growling in disgust, Caroline stalked off to converse with the other women in quiet, harsh tones. As they waited, Klaus and Tyler found themselves staring at each other in a battle of silent wills. Klaus knew who would crack first.

Indeed, Tyler finally said, "You called her your friend when we found you."

"_Your_ friend had a shotgun aimed at her," Klaus replied. "Referring to her as such built empathy with you."

Crossly, Tyler said, "You couldn't have known it would work."

What did that matter? Klaus shot him a sideways glance but said nothing.

"What did you mean, anyway?"

"For what?" Klaus bit.

Black eyes that were amazingly, stupidly fathomable turned on him. "When you said you'd seen it all before."

To that Klaus merely smirked. Realization quickly dawned on Tyler, only proving he wasn't a _complete_ fool. Klaus could admit to himself that he was pleased to see doubts flicker over the other man's face, as though reassessing what he knew of sweet little Caroline.

Off to the side, Caroline appeared resigned and ducked behind a sheet Elena had hung for the women to change behind. When she emerged, her tattered suit was in hand and a poorly made shift hung loosely from her body. It did nothing to flatter her figure. Damn her for being so radiant anyway.

"Don't screw this up," she said, dropping the suit into his lap.

"I'm not an amateur," Klaus replied. Without looking at her, he took the proffered makeshift needle and a small bit of thread that was slightly off-color. No matter; for most of it he could hide it within the seams. He could practically feel Caroline's surprise roiling over him as he began to work with meticulous accuracy.

Almost as though she'd forgotten why she was angry with him, Caroline knelt nearby so that her healing wound was hidden from view by the shoddy skirt. "Were you a tailor?"

Klaus graced her with a dirty look before going back to his work. "My mother owned several designer companies. I took a slight fancy when I was five."

Sardonically, Tyler said, "Kind of unusual for a little boy."

Klaus sneered toward the suit. "Yes, well, when one's alleged father looks at one in disappointment for preferring arts to maths, one tends to gravitate toward something mind-numbingly repetitive to take the mind off problems at home."

"So, you have daddy issues."

"What's your excuse for being a pathetic sell-out to the government after failing college?" Klaus retorted. Truly, in such cramped spaces, there were no secrets. That was why he was willing to divulge a little of his past prior to his so-called criminal history. Something worthless to whet their appetites.

Scoffing, Tyler stalked off. To Klaus's indignant fury, Caroline followed.

Pathetic sell-outs to the United World Government. The both of them, he decided heatedly. Klaus began redirecting his passion toward his work.

And for a few days, it did keep his waking moments tremendously occupied. While Jeunesse Blanchefleur was a world-renown designer, even she was silently impressed with his handiwork. Or so he assumed, since she didn't criticize any of the seams. Thus it fell upon him to mend what clothes were salvageable. When they ran out of those, he provided blunt instructions on what sort of materials to look out for when they attempted a foraging mission. Often what was brought back was not well, but Caroline hit the mark precisely 100% of the time.

Pity he couldn't share how pleased he was with her. Though she continued to give her ex-fiancé the cold shoulder, Tyler received some flirtation. Even Elena somehow managed to worm her sly little way into Caroline's graces. Only Hayley and Damon seemed content to remain aloof to the majority of the group.

When Klaus wasn't working or nibbling slightly larger morsels than he was given prior, he slept. In fact, he slept so often that the others began to grow careless and whisper things when they assumed no one else was listening. During one of the periods they delegated as nighttime, Klaus lay with his eyes closed but ears wide open. Caroline slept by herself a few meters to his right, while Tyler and Hayley were out canvassing the area for any _Apis_. So when Damon and Elena began whispering, they did it thinking he was well into slumber.

"Why didn't you say anything about being engaged?"

"Didn't see the point."

"She's hurt."

"She'll get over it."

"You really don't feel bad for her?"

"What, that she stupidly came after me when she had a wonderful life at home? That was her fault. Why should I feel bad?"

"It's called sympathy, Damon.

"No, it's called pity. She doesn't need it."

"But—"

"Seriously, Elena. You don't know her that well. I promise, on my brother's life, she's tougher than she looks."

Silence, and then: "That's not funny."

More silence.

And then: "I know you miss him."

"He'll be fine. You also don't know my brother that well. If any of them are going to survive, it's him."

"Tyler and Hayley say they haven't seen any signs of him."

"Good. Then neither will the _Apis_."

A soft sigh. "You don't have to be like that around me."

"Like what?"

"Damon…."

"He'll be fine," repeated Damon tensely. "Stop bringing him up."

Apparently, this missing brother of his was somewhere on Apidomi. Interesting. Klaus briefly considered telling Caroline, but then decided he had not reached that level of gratitude with her just yet.

The only sounds after that were small rustles as the two shifted. After some time Damon said, in a rising mocking pitch little louder than a whisper, "I can't cuddle you to sleep if you don't sleep, dear."

"I'm sorry. I'm just worried."

"Yeah. I get that. Not sleeping won't help."

"I know in my heart he'll find us eventually. It's just… what if he ends up like Klaus? It could be months before we see him."

"Elena, stop."

"But—"

From the abruptly intense breathing, Klaus surmised Damon had silenced her with a kiss. Muffled protests emitted from Elena. Yet, quite suddenly, she returned the affection with ardor. They kept as quiet as any human could, but Klaus very distinctly heard the gentle, wet sounds of their passion. Since the conversation was over, he determinedly shut them out and did his best to sleep.

Strangely enough, the next morning Caroline was unusually pensive. She didn't return Tyler's flirting whatsoever, though she wasn't exactly rude. Klaus shot her several meaningful glances, which she at last returned one. Hers clearly said, _Don't ask. Drop it._

So he didn't press.

Apparently that was enough for her to forgive _him_, because the next time she handed him a shirt to mend, she sat down to ask how he was feeling. Klaus shifted the leg in a new splint and said blandly, "It's healing."

Caroline nodded. "I heard. Elena says I did okay, and it should set just fine."

"Minus a possible limp."

She cringed. "Sorry."

Klaus shook his head and lowered his voice. "I'm not dead. It's no small favor you did me, Jeunesse."

Caroline shifted her weight onto her hand, making to stand, but abruptly reconsidered and leaned in close. "Why do you keep calling me by that name?"

"Because," he stated, "as of right now, I respect what you've done as Jeunesse more than what you've done as Caroline."

"Even though I saved your life?" she asked, pointedly annoyed.

"For which I am grateful, even though you threw a scalpel at me," he replied shrewdly. "But I do not respect your work as a Marine."

Caroline sighed heavily. "If you have so much contempt for Marines, why are you anywhere near the war?"

Klaus didn't want to acknowledge that. It would open up doors to the others. And even if she somehow kept her silence, he wasn't ready for her to know, either. Likely he would never be ready. Instead he handed back the shirt, focusing on her pursed mouth rather than her lovely eyes. "It's finished," he said.

Apparently as done with him as he was with her, Caroline snatched the cloth from his grip and stormed off.

Despite their little tiff, Caroline continued to gently dismiss Tyler's small advances for some time. The envy caught in Klaus's throat abated some. Yet she didn't come back to speak to him, instead preferring Elena's company. That is, when Damon was either preoccupied or off hunting for either food or _Apis_. Hunting was rough, Klaus overheard him converse with his lover once, since nothing sizable could fit through the narrow opening of their sanctuary. And even if he cut it to pieces the food would be dragged through dirt and rubble. With limited water they could not do much in the way of cleaning. Sometimes they made do, but usually it was silently agreed that the longer they could subsist off smaller prey, the better.

Some of Apidomi's animals could be turned into jerky. Others could not and were prone to rotting, so those had to be fewer hunted. They couldn't keep any leftovers, aside from the jerky, or the _Apis_ could sniff them out. Supposedly that had been amongst the list of reasons former hideouts had failed.

More than once Klaus fell ill from eating. Others did as well, but he noticed over the passing weeks (months? Time rapidly became a blur in the desolate cavern) that it appeared to happen to him more often. Still he said nothing of it. Much as he wanted to rage, he was at a severe disadvantage.

At least until his leg and skull healed.

Most of his bruises and scrapes had vanished by the time Elena decided to check on his head. She prodded gently at the sore spot, using her scanner to check for any anomalies.

"You're taking pretty good care of yourself, considering," she murmured.

Klaus scoffed. "As though I can move much."

"You'll be up soon," she assured him, winding the old bandages back on. "Which is good. We could use the help."

"Who says I'll help?"

Elena smiled faintly. "You will. Don't worry."

He didn't exactly worry, but her tone warned him that her assurance was less friendly than it could have been. Klaus eyed her skeptically but, once more, kept his mouth shut. Instead he focused on his physical therapy, doing small, repetitive exercises to regain the muscle that had begun to atrophy. Something as simple as squeezing his hand into a fist twenty times per hour proved surprisingly exhausting. But while results were slow, they were to be had and not argued with.

In a move that was almost too blatant, Hayley constantly attempted to interrupt his physical therapy. It didn't matter if he was making a fist, kicking his unbroken leg into the air, or using gradually heftier rocks as weights. She intruded.

Klaus was in the midst of leg lifts when she sauntered over and plopped herself down. "So why the mysterious past?" she murmured.

He refused to look at her. "Yours isn't?"

"Not saying that. But it is why I'm curious," she admitted in her careful drawl.

Though she seemed too pretty to be true, especially in these conditions, Klaus was more than leery of her. "None of your business."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, duh."

"Eloquent," he muttered.

"I have moments of persuasion."

"Like getting the boot into your bed?" Klaus grunted. He fixated his gaze at a point on the ceiling, once again taken in by the quiet beauty of the stone around them. How the others failed to appreciate it was beyond him.

"The—? Ah. Tyler." She shrugged. "He actually persuaded me."

Klaus bestowed upon her a short, derisive laugh.

Somewhat defensively, she said, "He's cute enough."

"Certainly. A handsome lad," Klaus said between chortles. "And you yourself are a beautiful woman. Which is why this becomes all the more entertaining."

Hayley flashed a razor-sharp smile. "Yeees," she said with saccharine sweetness. "His good looks apparently appeal to Caroline, too."

Klaus's smile vanished.

"You seem more attached to her than she is to you," Hayley pointed out. And the conniving bitch must have known that each word sent a terrible thrill of jealousy coursing through him. "And you apparently told Tyler you lied about being friends… and yet," she added too-thoughtfully, her eyes wandering. "She doesn't avoid you like Damon. So you two obviously didn't date. Or at the very least, if you did, she wasn't feeling it."

Klaus gave up on his therapy. He sat up and turned his upper body to glower at her. "And?" he asked quietly; dangerously.

"There is no and," replied Hayley. She seemed pleased with herself. "Unrequited love is a bitch, isn't it?"

"Never said anything about love, sweetheart."

She waved her hand dismissively. "A crush. Whatever. Personally, I don't see what's so special, but hey, who said there was anything special about me?"

Her tone was flippant, yet Klaus detected a quiet clarity to it. Nobody, except for maybe his "father," was coarse or abusive for no reason. (And even with him he had some ideas.) Klaus pretended to find the state of his splints more interesting, but the wheels of thought were turning rapidly. A few theories came to mind. The foremost of which she, too, was jealous. Klaus surmised enough to know she and Tyler were fucking, but not necessarily exclusive. Before that had been meaningless, as Damon was clearly possessive of Elena and Elena quietly returned the favor. But now, with newcomers—and objectively attractive ones, if he were to be brutally honest—there was a threat.

He could give her advice. He could mock her. But Klaus grew weary of discussing interpersonal relationships, so he chose instead to say, "If you insist on annoying me, the least you could do is offer some assistance."

One of her sharp eyebrows rose. "You want me to hold your legs up for you?"

"Do I look like Tyler?" he sneered. "Get me to my feet. I haven't walked in some time now."

Surprisingly, she moved to do so without further question. He was far from steady—oh, balance, how he sorely needed it—but with her help he was able to limp in small circles for a few minutes. Once he grew tired it must have shown, because she led him back to the medical corner without asking. Getting down was harder than standing with his splint, and he was covered in a light sheen of sweat from his efforts. But he felt much better.

"Feel free to drop by anytime, if that's your attitude," he told her.

She flashed a coy smile before sauntering off to her own little area. Once there she only glanced at him a couple times as she pulled out an old, worn binding meant for writing in. Klaus couldn't recall seeing such a thing since primary school. Whatever it was she jotted down something; notes, thoughts, plots—Klaus could only guess, though he was confident in his assumption that it was less than rainbows and butterfly sketches.

He itched to draw. A different kind of envy took him then, and he realized it had been months since he'd been allowed something so simple as a paper and soft-tip pencil. Klaus forced his hands into work once more, but for once the mending failed to satisfy. There was much he was good at, but nothing was quite so freeing as putting pencil to paper, or paint to canvas.

Of all the comforts he missed most, it was creating art.

That was yet another thing he intended to keep close to the vest. But once the concept danced across his mind, Klaus found he loathed his surroundings. Everything was kept dim, so the _Apis_ were less likely to find them. Compounded with the general darkness of the cave and lack of colors, imagining the smatter of vivid brightness upon a page was bound to drive him to madness. He found himself stealing more glances at Caroline just to admire her blonde hair, of which the color now made him think of sunlight.

If she noticed, she chose not to comment. In fact, once Hayley started coming around more, Caroline began avoiding him again. Not easy in such a small space, but she apparently had a knack for looking just past someone as though they weren't there. When the situation so suited her, of course.

Now, were Klaus a betting man (and sometimes he was), he would have been tempted to say she was jealous. But it didn't take long for him to realize her jealousy had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with Tyler.

Bloody hell. _Tyler._

The confirmation struck him most on yet another night he lay quiet but awake. Listening. This time Damon and Hayley were scouting, Elena was happily asleep, and Tyler and Caroline were conversing in whispers.

"So you're saying you're _not_ with Hayley."

"I'm saying I tried, and she turned me down. Said I was better for a lay than a relationship." Tyler chuckled in self-disdain. "Really can't argue on that one."

"Oh, please. You're pretty much the only reasonably nice guy here."

"Not really. On this planet, being nice means getting dead."

"Hey, I said _reasonably_."

"Thanks," murmured Tyler dryly. "For what it's worth."

"You're welcome."

"Did you really join the Marines to look for Damon?"

"Does it matter? Fighting for something meant a lot to me, too."

"Sorry, Caroline, but I'm pro-colonization."

A sigh. "Guess I'm the minority there."

"Not really."

"Then the minority in speaking her opinion."

"You definitely don't seem to have a problem with that."

A soft giggle made Klaus's blood run cold. It took an immense amount of inner strength and self-preservation not to grab the scalpel and chuck it at Tyler's head.

Their talk was otherwise nonsense, but the quiet laughter told him enough. Klaus wasn't certain whether he was jealous or disgusted. Was his Jeunesse truly so starved for affection that she would pursue a boot like Tyler? After _Damon?_ He had to question her choices. And taste. And sense.

Again he thought: _Bloody hell. What is wrong with this woman?_

Yet he couldn't deny that at least some small part of that was envy. Some people seemed to find affection any which way they turned. From her budding _something_ with the boot to her rapidly deepening friendship with Elena (honestly, how? Why?), Caroline just had a golden touch when it came to making friends and meeting new people.

Meanwhile, Klaus could barely count on his own siblings. And then only Elijah and, when it struck her fancy, Rebekah. Finn had hardly so much as looked at him in years, even prior to the beatings. Kol was so self-absorbed that one had to pick a fight just to garner his attention. And his so-called "father"…

Well.

Klaus shifted, only slightly as though he were still asleep, and opened his eyes away from where Tyler and Caroline sat. To his ire, Elena was also awake. Watching him. Looking almost sympathetic, if he were to believe such a concept existed.

Slowly, she put a finger to her lips. And then nodded twice, slowly, as though to say, _I understand, and I'm sorry._

And even with that Klaus had never felt more alone.


	5. Chapter 5

_Not much to update on, here. Apparently the last chapter was, uh... lacking? In my opinion, at least, the more I look back on it. Either way, there will be a cast of various characters here, so, yeah. Not just a Klaroline experience, though that is my ultimate focus relationships-wise. So sorry if any readers feel they'll have to slog through. Hopefully the adventure will be worth it._

_Updates will be a tad sporadic. This means some will come sooner after others. I'm not updating unless I have another chapter completed so I have time to correct any minor issues. (I'm finding this especially keeps me from writing myself into cliffhangers I change my mind on.)_

_If anybody feels any details are sketchy or weird, let me know. I do look over my work, but I'm far from perfect and always appreciate technical errors being pointed out to me. Thus, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Have fun reading!_

* * *

The surface of Apidomi would have been a breathtaking sight to behold were Caroline not more concerned about the possibility of _Apis_ in the area. She walked in utter silence behind Tyler, casting her eyes left and right and swiveling to glance behind at the faintest sound of movement.

Foraging was nerve-wracking.

They were in an area that most closely resembled a forest on Earth. Gray plant life twisted across the ground, proudly displaying proud gore-purple flowers. The trees above them swayed with their razor-sharp branches. Their smooth trunks were bare of even moss growth, glistening where sunlight struck the surface. Toward the canopy color exploded toward the sky; bright orange and red leaves, sunflower yellow blooms, and teal veins giving the petals a mesmerizing allure. Wildlife was rich with small animals for which they had no names yet, but most abound were the various alien flowers. She wondered if Earth had come up with the name for _Apis_ after finding their planet, as it seemed they not only bore a similar appearance to bees, but also a like lifestyle.

Tyler wore a sack made from the leathery hide of a mammal they had kill for food a couple weeks back. The design was simple yet effective; naturally, it was her design and the work had been completed by competent hands. For the moment they had enough food and were searching for more materials to patch and create clothes.

Her ex-fiancé would never admit it, but Caroline knew even he could see his group was better off after finding her and Klaus. Sure, they'd been surviving, but now they had a modicum of luxury in their cramped little hellhole.

"Care," whispered Tyler in excited tones.

She crept closer, following his pointed finger with her eyes. Skittering up a tree was an animal they had yet to come across. It was about the size of her fist, with a long thin rat-like tail. Its black, hairless feline-esque body tapered down into feet and talons akin to a chicken's. The tail swished as it vanished into the leaves.

"Way cool," she breathed, unable to keep from grinning.

"I think it looks like a Qualine," said Tyler.

Attempting to name the animals was something that helped calm their nerves and pass the time. "Too close to my name," said Caroline. "I think 'Huiston' fits it better."

Tyler snorted. "I'm sure Elena knows the proper Latin for it either way."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Caroline began to move again, keeping her voice low. "For an almost dead language, she's pretty fluent."

"Sometime between the rescue mission and the factions splitting up, I heard somebody say she has a ridiculous IQ," said Tyler. This time he brought up her rear. The switch felt so natural that one would have thought they'd done hundreds of these excursions together. In fact, it was only their third. "160 or something like that. She says she only knows Latin and nothing else, but I'm not sure how much of that is true and how much is her being humble."

Caroline would have whistled had they not been outdoors. Instead she said, "Huh."

"Yeah."

They couldn't be out for long, or the possibility of _Apis_ finding their trail grew exponentially. So far they had found and plucked a few broad leaves from bushes on the ground (not all at once; a leaf or two here, another there) that had a strange, woven texture similar to polyester. It wouldn't be enough for more than a shirt, though, and shirts were not in high demand. In fact, the current project were fitted full-body suits similar to Caroline's. The hope was that if they wore clothing made from elements of Apidomi, the enemy would have a much harder time tracking them.

So these certain leaves were used in place of cloth, and the hides of animals were used for footwear or bags. The hide of a large, thorny beast they had come to call "clavus" was best for shoes, given how tough yet flexible it was once skinned and de-thorned. Caroline was wearing a pair now, and she appreciated how it kept her feet warm in the chilly atmosphere. The shoes made from "molli" (velvety little creatures that made Caroline wince to kill; they were the friendliest aliens they had found so far) were best for stealth, but so far Damon was the only one who possessed a pair. He had priority, he'd insisted, because he was oftentimes the hunter.

Maybe so, but despite her hang-ups about slaughtering such a sweet animal, Caroline knew they could all use it.

Regardless of their clothes, Tyler was not a complete novice in creeping quietly, and Caroline knew she was stellar even with her surroundings. They avoided dry, brittle foliage and kept their footfalls gentle. Within the hour they also found a plant that resembled wheat but was almost black in color and much, much sturdier. She used a razor branch with a handle made of thin leather to cut some as close to other plants as she could. Anything to deceive the enemy in thinking nothing had been touched.

The trek back into the cave was treacherous as always, and lowering down into it even more so. The one grappling hook the group shared had to be carried with them at all times, lest the _Apis_ discovered where they were coming and going. It added weight and took up space in the bag, but it was wholly necessary. The crawl back into their cavern was much shorter than she'd originally assumed—only 15 minutes compared to the hour and a half it took her when dragging Klaus's broken body with her.

When they reached their safe spot and began unpacking the bag, Caroline glanced over and realized that… well… Klaus and Hayley had been getting _awfully_ cozy lately. She couldn't give voice as to why it made her uncomfortable. Mostly because she wasn't _sure_ why it made her uncomfortable.

"No," Klaus suddenly snapped in the silence. "Stop trying to double over on the back stitch. It doesn't make the seam any sturdier."

"Well, _sor-ry,_" Hayley drawled.

He reached over to yank the leaf from her hands. "I gave you an example of a blind slipstitch. It's simple enough. Use it."

"Maybe I would, if you didn't break all my stitches," said Hayley.

Klaus hunched back over his own work, a permanent scowl drawn down on his lips. "Your sewing skills are inferior."

"I'm working on it!"

"Precisely. _Keep_ working on it. I don't fancy getting a glimpse of a man's nether regions due to your slipshod handiwork."

Hayley paused, looking thoughtful. "Well when you put it _that_ way—"

"Just do the damn blind stitch," shouted Klaus.

"_Geez_, okay. Cool your burnt ass already."

Caroline frowned, unaware she had stopped unpacking and taken to staring. No, she decided. Perhaps it was unease of Hayley, or maybe the way Klaus kept raising his voice at her. But she was not happy with what she saw.

Fingers snapping in her periphery brought her back to her duty. She turned to find Damon watching her with a damn strange smirk highlighting his wicked features.

"Careful, Blondie," he murmured. "You look jealous."

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the bag and pulled out a hastily bundled pack of leaves. "You wouldn't know what I look like jealous," she said primly. "It's not like you had a line of women out _your_ door."

Normally such a comment might have irked him, but to her frustration Damon just chuckled. "Whatever you say."

Just to get away from her ex—and not because she felt the need to make sure Hayley wasn't performing witchcraft on Klaus—Caroline brought the bundles over and left them at his bedside. She stood with her hands on her hips and kept her voice cool and controlled. "Found some good material for you."

Klaus glanced over briefly before his eyes went back down to his hands. "It's doable."

She crouched down. "What are you making?"

Hayley looked at her as though she were an idiot. "Clothes," she said slowly.

Caroline glared.

"A suit similar to yours," Klaus answered, though his tone was clipped. "Your benevolent ex-fiancé has one. Apparently his lover is next on the list."

"I said mine could wait." Across the cavern, Elena sounded a little hurt.

Beside her, Damon shrugged. "I may or may not have pointed a bone shiv at him and threatened to cut his head open again if you weren't next."

"Damn it, Damon, I told you not to…."

The bickering started then, and Caroline tried to focus back on her antagonist-companion. But he pointedly ignored her, and Hayley made _shoo_ing motions with her hand. Her full lips curved in a conniving smirk that, Caroline realized, was carefully only aimed at her.

"Bye now," said Hayley sweetly.

So disgusted with Klaus that she could hardly look at him (really, _Hayley?_ Of all people?), Caroline dusted herself off as she stood and walked over to Elena to tell her about the new animal they'd found. She found herself glancing in Klaus's direction as she spoke, and more than once she thought she saw him visibly twitch at something she'd said. His fingers seemed to become stiffer as he worked, and his tense form grew more agitated.

If Elena noticed her distraction, she wisely kept it to herself. "Of the two, I agree with Tyler that 'Qualine' is a better name," she said. "It rolls off the tongue better."

"Too close to my name," said Caroline distractedly. She craned her neck slightly, willing Klaus to look at her. He didn't.

"Personally, I like _coanscey_." She pronounced it _konshey_.

Caroline smiled wryly. "Let me guess. Latin?"

"Maybe."

Off to her right, Damon sat on the floor, one arm propped up by his knee as he sharpened a blade on a smooth white rock that was glaringly bright compared to the backdrop. "It means naked," he said.

"Uh huh." Caroline waved a dismissive hand at him, still focused on the woman before her. "What about a compromise? Quanscey?"

"Qualine," said Tyler stubbornly as he joined them. "The -line indicates the feline appearance."

"Abva."

The new suggestion came from Klaus. And Caroline wasn't entirely certain she'd heard him correctly. The B and V seemed to slur together, making a consonant she was wholly unfamiliar with.

Damon's eyebrows rose on his head. "He speaks."

Klaus didn't respond.

After an elongated silence, Hayley said loudly, "Well, I like it."

"What a shock," Caroline muttered.

"I do, too, actually," said Elena thoughtfully. "What language is that? What does it mean?"

At that Klaus's mouth turned into a creepy, twisted smile. "It's a word for a particular type of beast in Aramaic."

Now _that_ was a dead language. Caroline frowned and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. What sort of upbringing did this man have, exactly? His manner seemed crass, and his temper was mean, yet he spoke very well and seemed highly educated. She had no doubt there had been an exponential amount of privilege in his life.

But that was all she could discern. He kept the rest of his history behind aggravatingly tight lips.

_Well, maybe that's why he's all chummy with Hayley,_ she thought darkly. _They're two peas in a pod._

As though on cue, Klaus turned his attention to the pieces of leaves Hayley had just finished sewing together. He nodded once and handed it back to her, noticeably without cutting the threads. She flashed him a dazzling smile before her eyes flickered to Caroline.

Caroline abruptly turned her head, pretending to be fascinated with something Elena was telling Tyler.

Later that same day (afternoon? Evening? She still wasn't 100% on the time here) Hayley assisted Klaus to his feet and helped him walk. He was doing remarkably better, only limping a little. And even that might be permanent, so it would seem he was almost done with his recovery. She wondered what Elena's plan for him was.

After his exercises were done, Caroline at last had an opening. She joined him in his corner of solitude, pretending not to notice _he_ was pretending she was not there.

"Why were you so twitchy when we were talking about the animals earlier?" she asked point blank.

She must have caught him off guard, because he looked right at her, his eyes widening a touch. Quickly Klaus recovered and drew up his non-broken leg, casually resting his arm upon it. "Nobody was twitchy, Jeunesse."

God, how she hated that subtle backhanded name. Narrowing her eyes, she said, "How stupid do you think I am?"

"Sometimes not at all."

But other times plenty, apparently. She sighed and rolled her head back to stare at the stalactites several feet above them. They were beautiful in a deadly way. Should an earthquake hit them, there was no telling how solid the structure of the cave was. It could very well kill them if the place didn't completely collapse anyhow.

When she deigned to look back at him, he was scrutinizing her with shrewd thoughtfulness. After a long, uncomfortable pause, he said, "What do we have in the way of paper?"

Caroline blinked.

"Um, well… not much, I suppose," she said slowly. "But I'm sure we could play around with some things. It takes water to make paper, but I'm not—"

"I don't need _paper_," he said emphatically. "Merely something similar. I also require coal. Or something else with a chalky substance."

"You want to write?" she asked.

"I want to draw."

She opened her mouth, couldn't think of anything to say, and then closed it again. Caroline supposed it wasn't quite as surprising, given his knack for sewing. And he _had_ claimed he hadn't been stellar in math. Most who weren't excelled in more creative projects.

"You're almost healed," she said dubiously. "We'll need you for other things."

"And I will do them," said Klaus impatiently. His voice sharpened with scorn. "You and your lot seem to have fun naming these cute little animals, knowing it could one day prove useful if we survive. I certainly don't see any cameras or other like equipment. So, tell me, what better way to document what we have found, what they looked like, and what the first humans here attempted to call them?"

A few things bothered her about his proposal. "How well can you draw, anyway?"

"I guarantee better than anybody else here."

"And just how am I supposed to find anything here that would work?"

"Trial and error." He sounded more irritable the more she pressed.

"We don't even know if this planet produces coal, or whatever," she pointed out. "What, am I just supposed to go digging until I find something?"

He rolled his eyes.

"And even if I do, why shouldn't someone else do it? Maybe someone here will surprise you."

He twisted to face her, his eyes afire with pride. "Have you ever heard of The Met?"

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, he meant. Caroline stared at him for a long moment before she snorted. At his furious scowl she quickly covered her mouth.

"No. No way," she said.

Klaus shrugged.

Slowly it sank in that he could _possibly_ be telling the truth. Caroline found herself stupefied for the second time in his presence. She shook her head slightly and found her eyes traveling to the suit he had been working on earlier. She reached over and gingerly lifted it. Giant, wide leaves had been sewn together so tightly and seamlessly that, without looking too closely, even she could be momentarily fooled into thinking it was one long stretch of darkly purple fabric. She turned it inside-out and inspected the seams. Not as good as her work, but he clearly knew what he was doing. His blind stitch in particular was meticulous.

She raised her head to find him staring coldly at her. Caroline set the suit down and leaned back a bit. Shew chewed her lip, sighed, and said, "I'll talk to Elena."

Klaus sneered. "If you _insist_, sweet pea."

Oh, now he was _definitely_ pissed. And crossing a line. Caroline rose, pointing a finger at him as she said in raised tones, "I told you never to use nicknames on me."

"Why bother respecting the words of a woman who can't even form her own opinion?" Klaus said, his voice dangerously low. "Scurry on back to your people, Marine. May you rot with the rest of them."

"Asshole," she snapped. Then, with vigorous flair, she turned on her heel and rejoined the only person with a modicum of real sense. Klaus muttered something she could, in fact, make out. But she chose not to dignify it with a response, even if blood swarmed to her ears.

The others must have heard them, but they kindly pretended not to. Though Tyler give her a sympathetic look a bit later when he handed her a strip of jerky and small chunk of some meat that looked like oyster but smelled worse than a bowl of rotten eggs even cooked. She still choked it down, grateful for the few swigs of water and a nibble of the delicacy that were the chunky military rations. It was no five-star cuisine, but these days the rations were as delicious—and dangerous—as a crème brulee.

Tonight was Caroline's turn to stay awake while the others slept. She focused on cleaning and inspecting the weapons. Apparently it was not a hobby of Damon's, but a designated task for the one who stood watch. She could see the sense in it. It also made sense for the next day's hunters to wake up to clean, prepared weaponry.

So she set about to using her branch-knife (God, she needed a better name for it; a Brife? A Knanch?) to whittle at a small, soft piece of bone. The guns could be cleaned after the others fell asleep. This was her personal project, to make a shiv for those moments when the fight was too close and the gun too far. Not too surprisingly, the bones of the clavus were sturdy and perfect for fashioning small weaponry. Some other night she intended to use the smaller bones from the nine-toed feet to make arrowheads.

As usual, Klaus went down well before the others—though Caroline suspected he wasn't always asleep. Tyler slept apart from Hayley this night. Only Damon and Elena resumed their typical whispering and cuddling. Fortunately tonight their gag-fest was short-lived and they drifted off quickly.

Or, at least, Elena did.

Caroline tensed as a shadow fell over her, one bare, grossly familiar foot stepping in her periphery. She scowled and began to whittle with a little more force than necessary.

"I don't want company," she whispered harshly.

"Well, you have it," Damon said laconically. And, in his typical infuriating manner, he dropped down beside her. Even the way he helpfully picked up a gun and began to wipe it down with a rag made from one of his old, no-longer-mendable shirts pissed her off.

Caroline at last dropped her tools in frustration. "I can't concentrate with you breathing the same air as me," she groaned.

After a harsh exhale through his nose, Damon said, "Kinda hard not to breathe your air, Pretty Pretty Princess."

"We're not friends," she stated. She turned to glare him down, but he simply stared back with a blasé expression. "Seriously. Never again. I wish I'd never met you."

Damon smiled capriciously. "Well, I am," he said with a voice full of needles. "Or else my 'sorry ass' never would have been pushed into this 'lucrative Marine career' and I never would have met Elena."

"Oh, real cute, throwing my own words back at me. And you deserved them! You were totally mooching off me."

Damon shrugged. "Didn't seem to bother you at the time."

"You're a pig," she muttered, shifting ever-so-slightly away from him.

"Guilty as charged," Damon admitted. He didn't pause in his work, though his eyebrows drew closer together. For a brief instant Caroline noticed how tired the lines of his face cut deep; how absolutely exhausted he looked. But then she blinked and his expression seemed smooth and impassive once more.

Her ex-fiancé hesitated in his work. "But you know…."

Caroline had the sinking feeling she didn't want to hear his words, but she sighed and waved a hand. "Just say it."

He finally looked directly at her. His eyes, normally excitable and tumultuous as a storm, were curiously calm. "If you hadn't completely spoiled me, I wouldn't have been such a dick to Elena. And she wouldn't have had to give me the kick in the ass I needed. So… thank you."

And just like that the self-reflection was over, and his expression went back to lazily-lidded.

Caroline stared at him in disbelief. How had he managed to twist his selfish, irresponsible behavior into a good thing? In _his_ mind? It made her realize that, even now, she had been quietly holding out for a sincere, heartfelt apology. And that she was never going to get it.

Because Damon was right. He was a dick.

Perhaps it was the absurdity of the situation, but Caroline actually chuckled a little. She bowed her head. "Your apology is shit," she said.

"I've made worse," promised Damon.

"I'm sure half of them have been to me," she pointed out. No way was she forgiving him, not that easily, maybe not ever. But she could still appreciate the humor of his same-ol' same-ol' crappy ideas of what saying "sorry" entailed.

"Probably."

She sighed and scooted away from him. As she picked up her tools again Caroline said, "Just go to bed, Damon."

"Yes, Mom."

Despite his snarky attitude, Damon continued cleaning his rifle. To his credit, as soon as he was finished he made his way back to his—ugh—new lover. Caroline could have sworn she heard a soft, longing sigh fall from his lips as he curled up beside Elena once more.

Tears came stinging and unbidden. Caroline quickly swiped at them, taking care not to slice her flesh wide open with her knanch (yes, it was now a thing).

_Damn you, Damon,_ she thought as she furiously whittled. How was it fair that he got to move on scot-free while she was the one stupidly hanging on to hope that he would eventually, truly, honestly at least _apologize?_ It wasn't like she was asking for him back; hell no. But a sincere, "I'm sorry I was too busy having space-sex with another woman to consider your feelings," would have gone further than his version.

Then again, looking back, Damon had always been selfish. Not in bed, else Caroline would never have gone past a second date. But three years together had given her a lot of bright neon Las Vegas signs that they were utterly incompatible. He was self-absorbed, constantly craving excitement even often at the expense of others. Even when she had proposed (because he had certainly been taking his time) he'd somehow made it sound like he was doing her an enormous favor by saying yes.

How could she have mistaken all that for happiness?

_Hindsight,_ she told herself grimly. Plus it had been hard to see through the hazy glasses of her feelings. Selfish though he had been, Damon had never ceased to be exciting. He'd introduced her to new restaurants, new places, new fashions, new experiences. Would Caroline have gone parasailing on her own? Probably not. But it had been a thrilling adventure. She'd learned some things about herself, such as she hated snowboarding but loved skiing; disliked French food but adored Thai cuisine. Somehow Damon had managed to introduce a woman who ought to have been worldly to more than she had ever attempted to know. Not for lack of desire, but for lack of time.

Funny how love could do that. Less funny how that same love could be so brutally ripped apart.

She was grateful Damon had only cleaned one gun, since it gave her more to do throughout the night. Caroline found herself pausing more often than she liked. The cavern walls weren't _that_ interesting, yet she kept eyeing them and wondering what other minerals could be found if they were to dig. Gems would be useless; they had no basis for economy, and it would be difficult to discern their worth on this alien planet anyway. But coal would be good for fires. They were all weary of slicing their hands on knife-edge branches.

_And,_ a voice suspiciously similar to Klaus's nagged at her, _it would be useful for sketches._

Caroline scoffed at the thought and turned her focus back to her work.

She was long done and playing around with different bones once more by the time the first person stirred. Even across the cavern she could feel the dark gaze upon her, boring into her skull with a mixture of anger and longing.

She tried not to look at Klaus. Yet she stole glances anyway.

Soon enough the others were up. Hayley began doling out food—more jerky and small pieces of a ration bar—while Elena probed at Klaus's bandages.

"You're good," she announced, so suddenly Caroline jolted. "Just start walking around some more and keep doing your exercises."

Klaus grunted noncommittally.

For some reason, the idea of him mobile made her nervous. Caroline instead turned her attention to Tyler as he joined her for breakfast.

"What are you doing today?" she inquired.

Tyler's dark eyes flickered her way and a wry smile twisted his mouth. "Scouting," he said.

Part of their daily duties was to canvas the area and look for any signs of _Apis_, particularly of their young. If any were found, they had to be destroyed. If anything appeared to lead the _Apis_ back to them, it had to be subverted or destroyed as well. Worst case scenario—which had not yet happened since Caroline and Klaus had joined the party—they had to either come back and warn the others to evacuate, or sacrifice themselves in order to keep the others safe.

It was not pretty, fun, or calming whatsoever. Foraging was nerve-wracking, but scouting could easily end in death. From what she had been told, it had happened a couple times already. Supposedly, someone very dear to them had gone scouting and never returned. No warning, no body, nothing. Damon always changed the subject, and it seemed to pain Elena to talk about it.

"You're taking Mr. Badass here with you," said Damon with a gesture in Klaus's direction.

Tyler made a face, but Klaus wore an almost vicious expression of cruel joy. "How fun for me," he said softly.

"Great," muttered Tyler.

Unease settled in the pit of Caroline's belly, but she didn't question the arrangement. Instead she finished her breakfast and curled up in her own corner to sleep. As she waited for sleep to take her, the rustling of everybody going about their business failed to lull her. In fact, as Klaus answered Tyler in short tones, the awful sensation in her belly worsened.

Soon after the men left, and Elena and Hayley set about to tidying up the area. Caroline was at last able to fall asleep. But it seemed only seconds later when she was jolted awake by a far-off yet distinct cry. Her Marine training kicked into overdrive and she sat up, focusing intently on the words.

"_Man down__! Man down!_"

Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

_As I write this, I am temporarily without a computer. I do have a little of the next chapter done, but until I can find a way to power on my laptop (or, heaven forbid, buy a new one), I can't say when the next part will be out. Please be understanding and patient with me. Once I'm back up and running, my goal is to have another chapter in reserve as I have been. As it is, I've been doing this just in case of an emergency... just like this._

_ Once I get my personal computer up and running again, I will also be on a time crunch for my next published novel, so this will end up taking a back seat for a while anyway. I will try to update at least every other week, but it may only be monthly. I apologize in advance._

_Thank you for all the reviews so far! It's been a long while since I've attempted an AU story, and I'm having a _ton_ of fun with it._

_Constructive criticism is always appreciated!_

* * *

Klaus had not wanted to see, hear, smell, touch, or even taste Tyler. Yet somehow within an hour of their excursion, he had managed to offend all five senses.

The first three were disappointingly easy. Everybody had calmly, condescendingly concluded that, as a _Marine,_ Tyler was best suited to lead between the two of them. The boot had looked disturbingly pleased. Only Caroline's lack of comment—or consciousness, from the quick glance he'd stolen before they left—had kept Klaus from knocking the smug bastard's teeth in. But that was how Tyler had ended up literally leading Klaus through the tunnels of their beautiful underground hell. Of course, the idiot had to talk. And of course, said idiot smelled worse than a rotting carcass. (Klaus tried to ignore the fact they all probably did. But bloody hell, even he took opportunity to forego drinking water in favor of a skin-scraping sponge bath now and then.)

As they walked, Klaus grew more and more offended by the delicately disgusting scent wafting back to him. "You couldn't have found a way to travel downwind?" he snapped.

"Nope," murmured Tyler. He turned his head slightly, his expression intent as he peered around but his voice smug. "That would have put _me_ in your path. And desiccated brains are not exactly my favorite perfume."

Oh, the murderous fantasies this stupid boy invoked. Klaus glowered but kept silent. Patience, he reminded himself. His day would come.

"Wait here," Tyler said suddenly. He didn't even offer Klaus a glance back. "I'm gonna check this hole out."

The opening before them was about as high as Klaus's waist and nearly three times the width of his body. He had never seen an _Apis_ up close, but he assumed there was reason the boot wanted to take a look, such as it being a potential nest.

He shrugged and said dismissively, "Good luck, mate."

If he was going to be left behind, Klaus didn't understand why he had to be on this mission. But it was a good excuse to walk around and build his strength back up, so he would be a complete fool to pass up the opportunity. Though truth be told, he almost had.

Having no interest in watching Tyler's back end wriggle into the hole, Klaus began pacing and observing the tunnel's structure. He was no geologist, but the rock looked uncomfortably solid. The _Apis_ were either surprisingly formidable in tool-making or, more likely, had evolved so as to dig through the stone as though it were soft soil. Even the plant life appeared to subsist largely off the unforgiving stone, given how thin the layers of dirt were between the uppermost surface and the darkly glittering world surrounding him.

In short, if he wanted something like coal, he would need something much tougher than the flesh of his hands.

Klaus was so busy observing that he nearly missed the faint skittering sound from afar. His shoulders tensed and his attention snapped back to the present. After a few tense moments, there it was again; faint, like a cat's ungroomed nails clicking softly on hard wood.

He quickly strode back to the opening Tyler had vanished in to, crouching to the ground and peering in with narrowed eyes. He couldn't detect anything; the hole delved into a blackness so pure it could drive a man to madness.

Quietly, he hissed, "What is that?"

No answer.

Klaus raised his voice. "Tyler!"

This time he was met with a soft curse just before scrabbling sounds. Rapidly the boot emerged, glaring daggers.

"Don't fucking yell," Tyler snarled.

"I hardly raised my voice, you impotent fool."

"There's a nest in there," Tyler insisted. "Hundreds of 'em. It could be the entire colony of their young. You wake one, we're still dead. Maybe half of them looked fully formed."

Curiosity overrode his irritability. "I'll go look."

To his fury, Tyler grabbed his arm as he began to get to his knees. "Are you insane? You don't have the training for this."

"Then what is the point of me being here?" Klaus asked tersely.

"Hell if I know. I didn't want you in the first place."

"You can't still be stuck on how I've already slept with little Jeunesse, can you?"

For a moment Tyler looked puzzled, and then his dark features darkened further. "Shut up."

It would have been the wise choice, but Klaus had never proclaimed to be wise. Cunning, perhaps, but certainly not wise. So he took pleasure in flashing a sharp smile at the boot and saying, "It's not like she's spoiled. And from the looks of the two of you, she certainly seems up for a ride on your pathetic little carousel. Certainly Hayley can vouch for you if you're concerned."

It was the last sentence that did them in. In a wildly impulsive move, Tyler took a swing aimed directly for the recently-healed site of his head. But this time Klaus was not tired, injured, or exhausted. He danced back on the tip of his toes, unable to wipe the gleeful grin from his face.

Until, of course, Tyler's hold on his gun faltered just so and a violent, explosive shot rang out.

They both stopped, staring at each other in stunned, mutual dread. Then, with a curse, Tyler turned and began to bolt. A strange sensation washed over Klaus, as though some powerful, invisible force was telling him, _Don't move._

The presence was smart, because he hung behind while an enormous _Apis_ shot out of the hole and went straight for Tyler.

It was his first time seeing the alien enemy up close, and in spite of his gripping fear, Klaus was in awe. It really was shaped similar to a bee, with a large back end that tapered, a single small front end with a triangular head, and enormous gray eyes that glimmered with the terrifying beauty of a thousand stars in each one. Its wings were more similar to a bird's in shape, but instead of feathers it boasted shiny black ovals that were so like onyx yet somehow twice as bright without losing their dark color.

And it had long appendages, four on each side, with the front two attached to its head just behind the eyes. The _Apis_ slashed out with one, leaving a thin trail of violet liquid in its wake.

It drove straight through Tyler's back and out through his front.

Tyler screamed.

Blood sprayed.

Klaus swore and dove forward. He could have run past the boot, allowed the _Apis_ to take care of the idiot for him, but within an instant he knew Caroline would never speak to him again. Not if Tyler died while Klaus saved his own skin.

Stupid, insipid, sentimental, beautiful girl.

The _Apis_ held Tyler high in the air, its eyes eerily wide and unblinking as the man slid down the multiple-jointed leg. Then, with almost childlike disinterest, the alien flung the boot off and into a wall, where Tyler screamed again as sickening _snap-snap-crack_ sounds filled the air. Blood oozed from his body with a foreign purple mixture that must have been poison. Klaus clenched his teeth and, against his better judgment, went to retrieve the injured man.

The _Apis_ slammed its blood-drenched second leg down before him. Hairlike bristles at least an inch long barely missed Klaus's nose. He froze in place.

But the _Apis_ didn't move to harm him. Instead, as Klaus slowly, with his hands bared near his shoulders, turned to meet its eyes. It stared down at him, its gaze unfathomable. It could have been angry, calm, or happy; Klaus couldn't even begin to guess.

Yet he could somehow guess that it didn't intend to harm him.

Tyler gasped on the ground, one hand trying to keep the gush of blood inside his body. Klaus glanced quickly at him, and then back at the _Apis_. Did the alien mean to kill the boot as a warning? Revenge? Did it expect Klaus to turn his back before also skewering him like soft, pulpy fruit?

The face had no mandibles or, really, anything he could discern as a mouth. So he jolted when a low, clicking noise seemed to sound from it.

Quietly, his hands still raised, Klaus said, "I won't try fighting you. I'm not an idiot."

It didn't answer, so it was hard to say whether the _Apis_ agreed or not.

Instead it slowly inched back, two legs at a time, until it crawled completely backwards into the hole. Klaus let out a painful breath, only then realizing how damp he was from a terrified sweat. He glanced again at Tyler, but was concerned about taking his eyes off the nest hole.

The boot looked a sickening mixture of gray and green. His blood appeared to be slowing, but there was a lot of it on him, his clothes, and the cavern floor. If Klaus carried him back to their hideout, he would leave an obvious trail.

Quickly he reached into Tyler's bag, ignoring the man's curses as he pulled out two full, sloshing canisters of water. He hung them over his neck and shoulder so that the cans smacked against his hip as he moved. Then, though he loathed to, he grabbed Tyler and hoisted him to his feet.

Tyler gasped and stumbled. "No. Can't walk," he said in a feeble voice.

"Quit whining," Klaus snapped. He started back for the hideout, but each step they took only made Tyler grunt and moan in agony. His face was ashen, and his blood was all over Klaus now. When Klaus instinctively licked his lips, he spat upon tasting copper. Blood. Tyler's blood.

Well, great. Now he'd affronted all five senses.

By the time he reached the entrance to their hideout, he began to grow a little more appreciation for the way Caroline had carried him throughout his injurious peril. Klaus set Tyler down near the entrance and knelt down, shouting as loud as he could, "_Man down! Man down!_" Then he unceremoniously pushed Tyler in head-first. The boot howled and spat curses that were blissfully muffled the further his head went into the crevice.

It seemed to take forever, but no more than ten minutes must have passed before somebody said something to Tyler and his feet were suddenly yanked from view. Then, with grim determination, Klaus unstrapped the water canisters. He unscrewed the top, taking a quick swig as though it were whiskey, and then began splashing it over Tyler's bloody trail. The ground was rough enough that the mingled mixture almost immediately began washing away from the entrance. The best stroke of luck was how the ground apparently sloped downhill, taking the water in the other direction from the hole, as though they had perhaps kept running. Klaus backtracked their steps, continuing to splash water over the thick red substance. Crimson bled through openings high above his head. It was still dawn, an affair that took hours here. Even better. Should the _Apis_ use sight, this would mask a little of the blood.

Once the last drop of water was shaken from the final canister, Klaus slung them over his shoulder once more and rushed back to the cavern. Nobody was there to greet him—a good tactical move that also bespoke to how little the others cared for them, the bloody bastards—so Klaus dropped to the floor and began his treacherous belly crawl back through the now-bloodied tunnel. He kicked behind him as he went in attempt to smear, thin, and bury the blood.

His head ached in spite of his surgery site being (allegedly) fully healed. Klaus gritted his teeth through the pain and kept going. The rubble beneath him scraped his arms, but fortunately nothing bled. He cursed himself for not saving some water in case he'd needed it in here as well.

Halfway through he nearly crashed into another form. Swearing up a storm, he shrunk back and snarled, "What the hell?"

"Shit. Sorry." Then, apology complete, Caroline abruptly said, "I need to lead the _Apis_ away from here."

"Already did, sweetheart," Klaus said breathlessly.

The intensity of the situation was so high that Caroline didn't even seem to notice what he'd called her. Though he couldn't see her, Klaus could imagine the Marine frowning. "What? How?" He explained his actions in hushed tones, only to be met with thoughtful silence. "That… was good," she admitted slowly. "Better than my plan."

"Let me guess. It involved a noble self-sacrifice."

Her tone turned dry. "Glad _you're_ not stressed."

Klaus could have smacked her. Instead he whispered heatedly, "I'm actually quite terrified, thank you, and would like to get back to the bloody hideout before any _Apis_ decide to check out this area anyhow and ambush us."

Her response was to move back in a hurry. Heaving a frustrated breath, Klaus followed.

To say that their welcome back was tense would be an understatement. Caroline emerged into their cave first, with Klaus on her heels. Immediately his eyes were drawn to the medical corner (he supposed he would have to find another place to sleep now). There Elena, Hayley, and Damon were all busy attempting to stop Tyler's bleeding while Elena rapped out a series of orders.

"Damon, I need the anesthetic. No, not that needle, the bigger one. Hayley—yes, that blanket, and the rags in my bag. Tyler, I said lie still. I know it hurts. Yes—oh. Thank you, Damon."

Elena swept her hair back with a thin strip of cloth, tying it behind her head to keep the long, dark tresses out of her face and the boot's wound. She began cutting away the cloth around his injuries while Tyler groaned on agony.

Klaus hung back, but Caroline hurried forward. At first it seemed she was getting in the way, but her quick responses to Elena's orders actually abled her to help significantly. Caroline multi-tasked by informing them of Klaus's efforts to divert the _Apis_ all while making Tyler as comfortable as possible and holding him down by his shoulders while the doctor injected a clear substance into a large vein in his arm.

As she did, Tyler at last seemed to notice Klaus. He became visibly more agitated and fought against Caroline's hold on him, attempting to sit up. "You," he said hoarsely, grunting as the blonde shoved him back down. "Why did the _Apis_ listen to you?"

Klaus stared at him impassively, though inside he wondered the same thing. Aloud he said, "He's hallucinating."

"Maybe," Elena grimly agreed. "Their poison has never exactly had good effects, physically or mentally."

"Shh," whispered Hayley, rubbing Tyler's arm in a soothing motion. "Go to sleep. We'll take care of you."

Damon, however, cast a long sideways look at Klaus. And Klaus pretended not to see, instead finding an unclaimed area to sit down. Once he did the weariness of the past half hour's events hit him like a boulder. He felt his shoulders sag, and he had to put his head down on his arm.

What a mess.

For the next few hours, Elena essentially performed emergency surgery on the wounded boot. Caroline aided her for a couple hours until Elena requested she switch out with Damon—"You need rest, go back to sleep," she told the Marine—and Caroline grudgingly agreed.

Klaus himself took a small nap, and when he awoke Hayley dropped by briefly to inform him that the doctor was into her fourth hour of surgery. Damon continued to assist, handing his lover tools as she requested them, as well as wiping them clean as best he could. Hayley would occasionally snag the supplies and pass an electronic sanitizer over them, something both Elena and Caroline had held in their meager supplies.

From what Klaus would see, the results would not be pretty even though they gave Tyler a stronger chance of fighting. Elena had to strip away skin from the bottoms of Tyler's feet to create grafts where the puncture wound had been too wide to sew shut. It would be a few weeks before Tyler could walk, but supposing he survived the poison (dubious, as they had apparently long ago run out of anti-venom and had simply hope Tyler had bled the worst of it out) the boot would live.

The quality of his life, well, that was still in limbo. Especially in this cramped, chilled version of hell.

With the others looking exhausted, Klaus set about fixing up a meal. He wasn't certain if it was too early or too late, but nobody remarked on it and they all accepted the food with a minimum of silent grace. Caroline still looked tired, but bit into her jerky anyway. When Klaus sank down to sit beside her, she didn't protest.

Softly, yet so suddenly Klaus still started a bit, she said, "That was good thinking with the water."

Klaus nodded once in thanks. "I'll get more."

Caroline sighed and shook her head. "We'll probably have to all stay here for a few days."

"Earth or Apidomi?"

"Good question."

Silence lapsed over them but for the monotonous chewing of the tough, stringy meat. But when Caroline finished her meal she turned to look at him, a small frown pursing her lips.

"How did you get away so clean, anyway?"

Klaus had hoped to avoid the subject, but supposed it couldn't be help. "Quite honestly, I can't say for sure," he muttered. He toyed with a small bit of jerky between his fingers. "It all happened so fast."

The Marine paused for a moment, and then admitted, "I'm kind of surprised you saved him at all. You don't strike me as the selfless type."

_ You would have loathed me had I not,_ thought Klaus. But he knew better than to say such a selfish thing. Instead he replied, "It's quite unnerving, really. Watching an alien skewer another human being." He finished his meal while Caroline absorbed his words. Then he finished, "Whether we like each other or not, we're all still fighting this war."

"True," she murmured.

"Best not to burn alliances unless we have to," he continued. "Strategically speaking, we're outnumbered. Can't afford to lose anybody." Though really, aiding Tyler in his state could prove to be a waste of medical supplies. But a dim part of him was aware of the hypocrisy of this idea so, for the time being, he kept that opinion to himself.

Caroline looked at him sharply. "Is that all we are to you? Allies?"

He met her gaze evenly, unfazed by the flare in her eyes. "Given the considerable dislike for me, I feel that's an apt description, yes."

"Oh, well, big shock that people don't like you, given your _stellar_ outlook," she snapped.

"Optimism will get you killed, Jeunesse. Didn't your beloved military teach you that?"

"We wouldn't have the military if we weren't striving for the best outcome," she argued. "If I can't be optimistic, who will?"

"The doctor."

"But not Damon. Or Tyler, or Hayley. All of you look at this like it's some sort of awful, depressing state of being."

"It's called survival."

"No, it's called pathetic," she said.

"Look at where we are," Klaus said in low, terse tones. "Underground like rodents, scavenging for edible food like starving hyenas, subsisting off what little water we can find. _Apis_ attack and instead of fighting back, your comrade runs like a coward."

He expected her to argue with him. Instead Caroline sighed, leaned back against the rough wall, and said, "So tell me what happened out there."

He stared at her for a long moment, but slowly recounted what had occurred—minus the strange feeling he had not to move, as well as the way the _Apis_ watched him as though it were trying to communicate. Outside of the moment, both just seemed preposterous. Retelling the story gradually drained the rest of his adrenaline.

Klaus was too busy talking to immediately notice Tyler's surgery had wrapped up. Those left conscious remained quiet, and he didn't realize they were watching until he finished with how he'd tried to steer the _Apis_ away from their hideout.

Moments after he finished Caroline opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but Damon beat her to the punch. "That's a curious story," the man mused a little too loudly. "So similar to Tyler's, and yet, so far off."

Klaus couldn't imagine the boot had had much time to say anything at all. So his dry response was, "Really. How fascinating."

"Yeah," said Damon with too much cheer. "I thought so, too."

With a roll of her eyes, Hayley explained, "Ty says you set off a gun and drew the _Apis_ out. And when they came, he tried to hold them off." She waved her hand contemptuously. "Then, of course, some crazy talk about the aliens talking to you."

Damon turned to her, his bright eyes narrowing to slits. "Somehow I'd think when you're riding a guy's dick for months you'd be more on his side. What, was Klaus the better lover? I figured if you _were_ going at it, the lack of sound must have meant he was a hell of a bore. How wrong am I?"

"Damon!" Elena's voice sharpened with warning.

Hayley sneered. "I know he's your loyal little foot soldier, but we all know what _Apis_ poison does to a human. I say he was delirious."

"And I say even then he's more reliable than our bullet-brained buddy here," said Damon coldly.

Elena threw her hands up, exasperated. "_I_ say we're all tired, and we can talk about this later, after we've all had another sleep rotation." Both Damon and Hayley scowled, but did not dissent.

Klaus turned to Caroline. "And you?" he asked crisply.

She lifted a hand, weary lines etched in her brow. "Elena's right. We're all tired."

Unbelievable. Klaus felt an old blackness well up from deep within, an anger he had not been familiar with since his father had successfully gotten him thrown on to death row.

"Worthless," he spat, picking himself up and retreating from the bitter corner.

Caroline remained where she sat, and even Hayley seemed more interested in Tyler's sleeping form than speaking to him. Never had Klaus so intensely desired some personal space. He had to settle for pacing near the food area. Habitually, he fell back on his recovery exercises; clenching his hands, performing leg lifts, stretching his aching muscles. None of it cooled his head, but it did keep him moving while he brooded over the sorry lot he was with.

Of course he understood there were drawbacks to his personality. But that didn't make the moments he was honest any less infuriating when all they intended to do was call him a liar from the start. Had they not been in such a precarious situation, Klaus likely would have been a lot _less_ honest. He could only presume his lack of openness had been the largest contribution.

But damn it all, he would think that _saving_ the gormless boot's life would have counted for a hell of a lot more than they were giving him.

The tension in the cave didn't allow for much sleep in the beginning. Since they had to remain in place until they were certain the _Apis_ threat had passed, it was quickly becoming obvious how horridly they all had relied on a routine to get them through the soul-crushing reality of where they were. Caroline remained withdrawn, Hayley refused to leave Tyler's side, and the "dream couple" took jabs at one another, some with a hint of good nature and others mean-spirited.

Klaus didn't fit in with any of them, he realized. He was the only one infuriated by Tyler's ridiculous story, and that in turn only made him more agitated when time passed and nobody apologized for their assumptions.

What had his sister screamed at him once? That he was a, "backstabbing, narcissistic wanker"? Klaus would have _enjoyed_ having her here, if only to show her that the label certainly applied to others more than him.

Pity. He'd always appreciated a good show.

Thinking of his sister struck him with a homesickness that he would have never thought possible since his imprisonment. For a brief moment, Klaus believed he would have traded his fascination with Jeunesse for seeing the only two siblings who gave a damn about him.

_ Well,_ he told himself grimly. _I suppose I'd better survive on this rock until we find a way to Earth._ The idea was laughable, but for now it was the only hope he had.

Rather than dwell on it, Klaus at last wound down enough to claim a small area as his own. Away from the food and weapons, lest the idiot Damon assume the worst with his trigger finger. Given that Tyler had appropriated what had once been his sad excuse for a bed, Klaus was not in the mood to test his luck in a game of Damon Roulette.

The next two days stretched everybody's patience thinner than the skin Elena had grafted to Tyler's (still unconscious) torso. So it was probably not a great idea on Klaus's end when he cornered Caroline and demanded to know her opinion on his version of events.

Caroline met him with a firm jaw and hands on her hips. "Damon's rude, abrasive, and an asshole, but I'll give him this: he's not an idiot. If he senses something's off, he _may_ be right."

"Do you have a single thought of your own, Jeunesse?" Klaus sneered. "Or does your Marine Corp training overriding your own senses?"

Flatly, and with a toss of her now-dirtied blonde hair, Caroline said, "I _happen_ to think he's right. And I decided that on my own."

"You're a transparent fool," he hissed. "It's so bloody obvious you cling to some small hope he'll come back to you."

From the way she blanched, Klaus knew he'd struck a nerve. "Fuck off," she growled.

"Are you also a coward?" he demanded. "You're rather quick to point out my faults, but heaven forbid you notice your own. Or is it just when you're acting the hypocrite?" Her face twisted with fury, and Klaus saw her arm begin to rise as though to strike him. Rather than be taken by surprise, his hand darted out and grabbed her wrist. He stepped in close, pressing her forearm tight against his chest.

"None of that, Jeunesse," he breathed. "I've tolerated quite enough when I was injured, but I will no longer hesitate to defend myself."

She was stronger, but now they were far too close for her to have leverage to pull away. She yanked once and when it failed to work, she said, "Is that what you call stabbing me?" The muscles in her arm tensed as though ready to push, but Klaus wasn't finished.

"Precisely," he whispered heatedly. "Now look, love. Your past is, quite frankly, none of my business. But your desperate cling to hope of what can never again be is wasting your awareness. With Tyler out, the rest of us have to rely on your and Damon's _beneficial_ enhancements."

Caroline shoved him back a couple inches, and he let go of her wrist. "Fine. Whatever. I get it."

Her voice was rough, as though she were fighting back tears. Klaus appraised her briefly, and then took a full step back to give her space.

But before he turned, he said as quietly as he could manage, "I disagree about your ex not being an idiot. Only a fool would have given up on seeing you again."

Her stunned silence satisfied him well enough to walk away.


End file.
